


Survival is Key (Peter Parker Whump)

by dearparker



Series: whumping peter parker like it’s a full time job [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Anorexia, Anxiety, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bi-Curiosity, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Branding, Broken Bones, Bulimia, Domestic Avengers, First Kiss, Gen, Graphic Description, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Head Injury, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Medical Inaccuracies, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Peter Parker Has Nightmares, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker has PTSD, School Shootings, Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Triggers, Waterboarding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearparker/pseuds/dearparker
Summary: His lungs are constricted and he’s gasping between his screams, his chest so unbearably hot he thinks he’s going to die.He is. He’s going to die.(or peter parker whump/comfort. set between aou and iw but iw never happens.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: whumping peter parker like it’s a full time job [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780081
Comments: 64
Kudos: 779





	1. washed the spider out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn’t write a proper ending lol

“The mission went better than expected,” Sam murmured to Bucky and Steve who nodded their heads in agreement. Peter could only muster up enough energy for a tired smile, his head falling on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony smiled fondly and wiped the blood from Peter’s temples, earning a displeasured hiss. He apologized quietly, knowing how sensitive the boy’s hearing was especially after being violated by the waves of bullets those Hydra agents shot at them.

Half of the Avengers opted to stay at the Tower, though they were on call the minute the mission went off course. The only ones that chose to stay behind had been Vision, Thor, and Hawkeye, prepared the MedBay incase. Bruce insisted on running the quinjet while the rest had rushed the Hydra base, only willing to come out if it was a code green. Spider-Man, Falcon, Black Widow, Captain America and Scarlet Witch were instructed to defeat Hydra agents and then gather evidence for Nick Fury. Iron Man, the Winter Soldier and War Machine had been asked to evacuate civilians.

It seemed odd to the teenager that Captain Rogers asked Tony to evacuate instead of him, but he didn’t dare question the man.

Peter, Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff were the only ones left wearing their suits. Sam’s wings were discarded along with Tony’s newest suit, so at the moment everybody was relaxed. Except Peter, the tension built up behind his shoulders made him restless. The child soldiers he had seen along with Sam and Natasha made him freeze, their willingness to kill so easily left him distracted and with hands wrapped around his throat.

He was glad that Tony was ordered to evacuate civilians nearby the small town in Kazakhstan, much to the billionaire’s distaste. Peter could still feel the tremors running down his spine when Natasha was forced to do more than just knock them out, but he and Sam averted their eyes and snatched as much evidence as they could. Files, pictures of stolen weapons and even a hard drive where they uploaded a lot more information onto. Natasha gave him a clap on the back when she saw the amount of evidence and nothing more.

Peter didn’t take it to heart though, he knew how disheartened she was at the child soldiers. They surely had parents, someone who loved them, they were too young to be apart of such a thing, so he took their files. The least they could do was attempt to find their parents.

The teenager rolled his shoulders and got up, eyeing the beige colored folders with the Hydra symbol in the top left corner and a white label. About seven or eight of them sat on top of another by Sam’s arm, one in Bucky’s metal hand. Peter took one gently, afraid of the information the folders held inside them. Sam looked at him and smiled softly.

”Good job today Webs,” Sam said, “You did great.”

He knew that Sam was lying to him, his performance today had been sloppy. When those child soldiers cried out and began to ambush the trio, he froze. Sam also hesitated before rushing to disarm them (no way kill, not in front of the kid) but Peter would never hold him to that mistake. Instead Peter froze and ended up with large, purple and blue hand-shaped bruises along his neck. Main reason why he kept his suit on, he didn’t want to worry Tony.

But he smiled with his split lip and nodded silently. 

Child soldiers still had names, the one who had choked Peter was named Aiman apparently. The boy had no last name, later on named The Weaver. He didn’t understand any of the notes the Hydra agents took other than random bits of Russian here and there on the outskirts of the papers, so he closed the folders silently.

”Peter, let me see.” Sam said quietly, sparing a quick glance at Tony who was conversing with Steve. Peter sighed and pressed the spider symbol on his chest, half of his suit falling from his small frame. Bucky frowned at the amount of bruising along the boys neck but averted his eyes back to the folder.

Sam brushed his fingers along the bruising lightly and Peter gulped down the aching feeling he got. The goosebumps on his arm rose which made the man frown at how cold the boy was.

  
“You’ll be alright,” Sam sighed but Peter already knew he had a concussion. Sure it would heal quicker than usual, but it didn’t mean it didn’t suck.

Peter eventually put his suit back on, slipping on his mask to look at the footage Karen compiled for him but he still kneeled in front of Sam and Bucky.

  
“Peter, you seem to be having trouble breathing.” Karen stated, “Should I alert the medical staff in case?”

”No Karen,” Peter sighed, “How’s everybody back at the tower though?”

”FRIDAY says that they’re awaiting your arrival.” Karen said, but something was wrong with her voice. “There’s something attempting to interfere-“

Just as Peter gasped when Karen’s voice filtered out, a light blared above Miss Romanoff’s head. She glanced at in confusion, flipping a switch. The light remained on and gained the attention of everybody else on the quinjet. Captain Rogers rushed to her side as Peter scrambled to his feet, Bucky putting a stable hand on his shoulder.

”Boss... there’s—interference cannot... protocol override—new coordinates...” FRIDAY’s voice distorted and Tony swiftly got out of his seat.

Peter grunted at the sharp pain at the base of his skull, the hairs on his arms standing under the spandex. Without thinking he wrapped an arm around Bucky and shielded the man, firmly sticking to the ground just as the quinjet began to shake violently. He heard Tony curse under his breath and suddenly the air in his lungs was robbed from him.

Bruce’s breathing picked up and Peter glanced at him, wishing he hadn’t when he saw the green instead of usual brown eyes he was used to. Captain Rogers barked something but it went unheard as a shock went through the quinjet.

The teenager was suddenly aware of his AI speaking, though she was seconds away from being taken over by whomever. “Sending emergency signal... initiating Stranded Spider Protocol—“

The suit abruptly shut off other then a blinking blue light in the corner of his right lens, his exact coordinates flashed about. Nothing else came from the AI and the heater abruptly shut off, but Peter currently had other problems. [1]  
  


Another violent tremor went through the quinjet and suddenly there was a roar from both the Hulk and the sound of wind rushing outside. Sam yelped and stumbled, falling outside the newly created hole in the quinjet.

”Sam!” Peter shouted and lunged for the man, the shouts of Captain Rogers and Mister Stark left behind the rushing wind. Before he knew it, he was sent tumbling after the older man with Bucky free falling to his far right. The three Avengers (really one two Avengers and one part-time Avenger) were hurtling straight toward the ocean below them. [2]  
  


He waiting for the warning Karen would send him as his parachute opened, but it was radio silence on her part since his AI had been hacked. He could hear screaming, mostly on Sam’s part, so he dived as if it would help. Bucky was enhanced and so was the teen, while a certain somebody definitely wasn’t. Peter could eventually wrap his arm around Sam, the ocean water about to be severely disrupted by the trio. So he simply prepared himself for the impact by turning them over, his back facing the water.

It would hurt like a bitch, but as long as Sam was better off.

He could hear Aunt May screeching at him for being a self sacrificial idiot.

As soon as Peter hit the water, everything went black for a few seconds. The wind got knocked out of him and his grip on Sam went limp, another splash above them as Bucky landed in the water. When he regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was how Sam was weakly pulling on his arm toward the surface. Another hand joined, though this one was colder.

Then the undeniable rush of water through his mask when he gasped for air. It filled his lungs quickly and he forced himself to grab Bucky’s and Sam’s hands, kicking his legs fiercely.

They broke through the surface and Peter hacked up water, though his eyes were wide as he barely managed to keep his head from falling beneath the soft waves. Debris fell from the sky and he shielded his head, finally spotting the quinjet far away but it was it nonetheless. It was falling from the sky in a spiral but the other Avengers had already jumped from the aircraft, black dots surrounded by that undeniable scarlet mist. Peter smiled through his mask only slightly, wheezing to get enough air in.

”It’s gonna be a long night,” Bucky coughed and weakly pointed his vibranium arm toward the sun that had started setting below the horizon. Peter’s heart sank as Sam sent a prayer. Bucky cursed loudly at the quinjet that was no longer in sight, just the flames it left behind.

* * *

Bucky had spotted the broken off wing of the quinjet not too far from them and insisted they rested upon it, then proceeded to scold (more like yell) at Sam for hiding his injury. He had a long cut on his arm from getting caught on the jagged opening of the aircraft before hurtling toward the ocean. Peter had to help Sam swim toward the makeshift float, which exhausted the teen further.

He currently had his head rested against the cold, wet metal with his eyes closed. His head throbbed along with his other injuries, relying on pure stickiness to keep him attached to the broken wing. Suddenly Peter wanted to groan because he insisted on skipping lunch for this mission, yelling a half hearted goodbye to Ned before booking it out the school. His stomach lurched with nothing but the soggy cereal he ate this morning. So now he had slower enhanced healing. However that worked.

”What’s on your mind kid?” Bucky had noticed the kid shaking continuously on the aircraft, but the boy’s tremors were currently hidden by the roll of the ocean waves. He wasn’t dumb, he was well aware the boy couldn’t thermoregulate, but something was on his mind.

Peter knew that lying to an actual assassin would get him nowhere, but his mind was focused on so many different things he just sputtered out a random sentence. Cue the nervous rambling. “My parents died in a plane crash.”

He lifted his head and caught Bucky’s startled expression, Sam just swallowed the lump in his throat. Peter felt bad for the random topic he brought up but couldn’t prevent the rambling, “It was on a shield mission. They were doing something—going to interrogate um- they were going to interrogate a few victims to finally close a case a-and the plane got shot down. Nobody survived-the plane uh.. blew up when it hit the ground. Created a really big crater on the outskirts of some town in Tennessee and-“

”Kid breathe!” Sam urged, watching as Peter took a deep breath. His cheeks were flushed red and there were tears in his eyes, they dripped from his long lashes. He glanced at Bucky who sighed defeatedly.

They thought the boy wasn’t going to mutter anything after a pregnant silence passed, but they were mistaken.

”I don’t wanna die Mr. Barnes.” Peter whimpered when the tears slid down his face, quickly avoiding their gazes. Bucky cursed softly and winced at a harsh wave that knocked him around a bit. The boy’s shoulders shook when he suddenly gasped, lifting his head quickly.

”Karen!” His gasp left Sam furrowing his eyebrows.

”She’s still activated?” Bucky deadpanned.

”No she shut down to prevent important information getting out.” Peter quickly explained, “But she did activate the Stranded Spider Protocol.”

”What the hell does that do?” Bucky grunted. He watched as the teen wrung out his mask with one hand and slipped it over his wet hair.

”Mister Stark told me about it. If I were to ever be stranded or kidnapped, either Karen or I will activate this protocol.” Peter laughed happily after a moment. “It sends an emergency or distress signal to the Avengers Tower, my emergency contacts and Mrs. Potts! It shows them my coordinates and usually a message with how much trouble I’m in, but Karen only managed to send coordinates.”

Bucky laughed in disbelief and Sam sent a short prayer. Stark really thought of everything for this kid.

”How did Stark manage to think of that protocol?” Sam breathed out questioningly.

”It was after I told him about Homecoming.” Peter said, no further explanation.

”Didn’t you take that one girl to homecoming?” Bucky asked, “What the hell happened.”

Peter sighed a let out a shaky breath, pushing away the flashbacks and gripped the metal tighter. It groaned and Sam warned him softly.

”How long until we know we’re being rescued?” Sam asked instead and shot Bucky a sharp look. He looked away.

”I don’t know, I just know that our coordinates had been sent before Karen shut down.” Peter huffed, “The only thing the Avengers know is that we had at least made it to the Atlantic Ocean.”

Bucky groaned when the teenager said that, knowing that the flight across the ocean earlier had taken more than an hour and a half (it would’ve been longer if not for Stark’s technology) but the Avengers finding them could possibly take days. Sam seemed to realize it too and glanced at his arm with concern, it had stopped bleeding. They could do nothing but sigh.

* * *

Peter woke up with a quiet gasp, already having nightmares about the current situation they were in. What if they died here? He whimpered quietly and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

At some point in time Bucky and Sam managed to fall asleep, their heads resting on the metal. The teen desperately wanted to wake them up to reassure himself but he stopped at the violent shiver that went through him. By now the temperature had surely dropped another seven degrees, maybe even ten. Maybe his lips were blue by now but gosh it felt like his lungs were frozen as each inhale felt like ice. His teeth clattered and he glanced at the corner of his mask, a blinking red light under the coordinates that Karen has displayed.

”K-Karen?” Peter whimpered quietly, hopeful that the AI would magically come back online. Her voice never reached his ears but the blinking light suddenly went away, another voice had spoke clearly which made him gasp.

”_Spider-Man_,” It was Vision.

”_It’s Vision. Your_ _AI sent a distress signal following with your coordinates. The remaining Avengers and numerous Shield teams are searching for you all. We are searching the entire Atlantic Ocean, in the mean time stay out of danger and the eyes of Hydra. Your AI has initiated the Stranded Spider Protocol, in where you can send exactly three messages. Use them wisely, Spider-Man.”_

Peter was so happy he could cry. In fact tears streamed down his face and he laughed, glancing up at the sky. He pushed his mask up past his brows, looking back at Sam and Bucky who were now glancing at him with tired eyes. They looked more alert when they noticed his tears.

His happy tears turned into sobs, Sam looking more startled as he reached a hand out to comfort the teen. Peter smiled through his tears and kindly rejected the comfort.

”They know, they’re looking for us. Vision sent Karen a message.” Peter laughed happily when Sam’s concerned expression turned into one of relief.

Bucky’s smile fell from his face after a moment, “That means Hydra knows.”

Peter nodded with tired eyes. He was suddenly exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep from his dumb theories of the depths of the oceans and what creatures lay (more like swim) beneath. He turned to Sam, “The ocean’s only five percent explored.”

”It is?”

”Yeah the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration estimated that back in 2000. And ninety-nine percent of the ocean floor is unexplored.” Peter yawned but kept his eyes open.

”Oh great, I love that we’re stuck, stranded, in a large dumbass ocean even more now.” Bucky growled in frustration.

”At least it’s the Atlantic and not the Pacific.”

”What’s the damn difference!” Bucky said exasperated, “They’re all connected!”

”Pacific is bigger than Atlantic,” Sam murmured defeatedly. Bucky groaned loudly.

“It’s the second largest though.” Peter perked up, “We have to be somewhere by the northern Mid-Atlantic Ridge!”

Sam nodded dumbfounded, “Certainly but they don’t know that do they?”

Peter grinned, “Karen can send a total of three emergency messages. Is it worth wasting a message right now?”

Bucky nodded furiously through a tremor.

The teen slid his mask over his face again to address his AI when he paused. Peter pushed the mask back up and closed his eyes, shushing Sam before he could utter a word. Over the waves sloshing across the metal and their bodies, he heard it from a far away distance.

A helicopter.

Bucky watched as Peter grew tense when he began to hear the blades of a helicopter. He gripped the metal tightly when the teen’s eyes snapped open and he gasped.

The Avengers would’ve used more efficient aircrafts, definitely a lot more silent too...

”Get underwater!” Peter barked sternly, inhaling deeply before plunging himself under. The cold water surrounding them made him freeze momentarily but he plugged his nose, opening his eyes. He saw dark figures beside him but he knew it was just Sam and Bucky, all huddled underneath the large broken wing they found earlier. It was jagged underneath and had sharp edges, successfully cutting the palms of Peter’s hands. The teen suddenly remembered the aches his body had which only got amplified at that moment. He grunted in discomfort and Bucky turned to him, his eyes open.

When Peter had focused in on the talking voices from inside of the helicopter, he could barely pick up on the code names but he knew it wasn’t english. They barked orders and addressed each other in such a way it made his skin crawl. Plus Peter was a thousand percent sure if Nick Fury would speak Russian, the man’s voice was mistakable.

Even underwater, the blades of the helicopter were as loud as day and suddenly there was a bright beam of light. It floated across the ocean around the broken wing and all the debris of the quinjet, hurting Peter’s eyes.

Randomly a wave of bullets sprinkled over them and into the water beside them. One lodged itself into Peter’s lower calf which make him involuntarily gasp, sucking in a large amount of the salty sea water. Bucky grasped the material of the Spider-Man suit and pulled him into Sam’s arms. As quickly as it started, the bullets stopped raining down and the helicopter pulled away too loudly.

Peter quickly broke through the surface and heaved up the water he inhaled, crying out at the salt water getting into his wound. Bucky ended up pushing him onto the broken plane wing, waiting cautiously to see if it would begin to sink. It barely did and at the he further ripped the material of the suit, right where the bullet was.

Sam’s voice trembled, “We have to get it out.”

”No shit!” Bucky panicked, “But the thing is if we fuck it up Peter could end up bleeding fucking everywhere. I- The kid’s lips are fucking blue!”

Peter believed it could be a possibility, but at least he wasn’t shaking anymore. That was a plus, having enhanced hearing and having to listen to your teeth clatter every other second wasn’t the most fun thing to experience. He ended up leaning backwards but Bucky muttered something to him. There was a ringing in his ears from the bullets and the stupid helicopter.

Bucky’s human hand grabbed his wrist at some point, two fingers pressing into his skin. Peter whined and tugged against the hand, his head throbbing.

”Pete.”

The Spider-Man mask halfway covered his face but he didn’t bother to fix it, just tugged his arm harder than the first time. It was still gripped firmly.

”Just... just five more minutes Ben.” Peter groaned and the hand dropped his wrist quickly. He opened his eyes (he couldn’t remember when he closed them) and saw Sam in front of him which made him smile.

Sam smiled back less confidently, “You with us now Pete?”

”I’m really tired Mr. Wilson.” Peter confessed while closing his eyes. He heard Bucky hum in alarm and Sam tapped the teen’s thigh repeatedly.

”Nope, nuh-uh.” Sam quickly said, “Rise and shine Webs. I have a mission for you.”

”A miss’n?” Peter said.

”Yeah bud,” The shaky voice came from Bucky, “But before we send you off, come give me a hug.”

Peter furrowed his brow, “Y’u hate wh’n p’ple touch y’u Mr. B’rnes!” But he shuffled over regardless and wrapped his arms around the man. Half of his body was on the broken wing. The waves bobbed them up and down like the plastic ducks in his bath water when he was young, where he would slap his hands down to move them with excited giggles.

He sighed against Bucky’s neck, randomly feeling the urge to undress. He want to slap that stupid spider symbol on his chest until his suit came off, the suit uncomfortably warm and itchy now.

”Hey hey!” Sam yelped as Peter tried to wrestle out of Bucky’s grip despite the dark spots in his vision, “Kid stop!”

”Your Aunt May said you like cuddles, come on kiddo.” Bucky laughed nervously, “I’m not Stark but I hope I’m good enough.”

”You’re the b’st Mr. B’rnes!” Peter shouted, no longer struggling. He wrapped his arms tighter around the man and frowned when Bucky went rigid for a moment.

The teen pulled his mask back on, noticing a small, red blinking dot under the coordinates. He gasped as the message began to play, this time with a baggage of reassurance.

”_Hang tight champ,” _Clint’s voice was thick,_ “We’re almost there. We can see Wanda’s signals, Vision can feel them too. Look out for a smaller quinjet. See you in a minute.”_

Just as the message ended, Peter suddenly heard the sharp whirs of engines, though they were much quieter than the helicopter blades. He laughed tiredly, pulling off his mask and gripped it in his hands. Forgetting about the wound in his leg and the fact he was seconds away from unconsciousness, he pointed at the aircraft coming toward them. It was obviously the other Avengers, he could almost hear their worried thoughts from here.

The searchlight that had been roaming the waves had landed on them and Sam furiously waved his good arm, his head bobbing under for a moment. Bucky shout with glee and desperation as Peter watched on. The closer the smaller-version-of-the-original-quinjet (wow did Peter have to come of with a new name for that) Sam would wave his arm more frantically. Finally after what seemed like hours it had gotten close enough, the ocean water spraying the trio because of the engines but they didn’t give a damn, the door opened wide enough to reveal Doctor Strange, Wanda and Doctor Helen Cho.

Peter smiled and closed his eyes as he felt Wanda’s magic surround them like a warm fire, bringing them closer to the quinjet. He was still clutched tightly in Bucky’s arms when they were brought through the opening. The teen could hear Tony gasp with relief and Helen Cho bark out an order.

”Stark get back! We have to...”

Peter didn’t bother to tune in, instead falling limp in Bucky’s arms who yelped in concern. But it was okay because they were safe now, he can sleep now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments/kudos :)


	2. cry out to the ones you love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tony and peter have a heart to heart. a side of hugs.
> 
> tw: suicidal thoughts (?), depression (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this instead of eating yw

His body felt like it was sinking into the middle of the soft guest bed, his body aching in places they probably shouldn’t be. Mind muddled with thoughts and his tongue heavy in his mouth, Peter sighed.

Mister Stark was a few floors down in the lab, working on Spider-Man’s web shooters that had somehow jammed last week during homecoming. He felt his heart clench at the flashbacks of that day, for a moment he thought he was crushed under the rubble again, but he just turned onto his side.

Aunt May had asked the billionaire to watch Peter as she visited an old friend, he didn’t know who. He believed she just needed to get away for a few days after finding out that the vigilante that swung on webs every other night was her dumbass nephew. Peter couldn’t blame her, especially when she busted into his room about the news report and Coney Island.

Nobody knew about the building.

_(“Come on Spider-Man!”)_

He was scared to sleep, he’d been hoping to avoid the nightmares for a little longer. But alas he was mistaken on Wednesday night, choking on nonexistent dust and wrestling out of May’s arms because they were just as crushing as the slabs of concrete piled on top of him. But he was okay.

Michelle had called him out on his bullshit during their Chemistry class the following day, closing the drawer he was making his web fluid in swiftly, leaning on his lab station casually. He had lifted his goggles with a gulp, glancing down at the drawer before she spoke up.

”I expected you to be more bruised up.”

His breath had hitched, “W-What?”

”Liz was pretty mad you ditched her at the dance.” Michelle squinted her eyes, “Unless there’s another reason why you’ve been injured.”

”I’m-“ Peter stammered, “I’m not injured.”

She rolled her eyes at his nervous laugh, “Whatever loser. Get some sleep, you look like a zombie.”

Peter remembered telling Ned to shut up when he gaped about Michelle’s conversation, he’d whisper-yelled, _“Dude she’s so onto you! Why else would she care? Sorry but, she probably knows-“ _And he would be lying if he said he noticed Michelle’s small smirk and the twinkle in her eye after Ned’s rambling fit, but he felt that same sinking feeling he’s noticed lately.

The same one that had him ducking into his guest room and swiftly avoiding Mister Stark after dinner. The other Avengers had apparently decided to crash at the tower and the dinner table was filled to the brim, arms and knees knocking together after the slightest movement. Peter couldn’t help it if he shrunk into his seat a little more at Sam’s teasing nudge.

After the noise level reached a new high after Sam dared Bucky to do the cinnamon challenge, but with paprika instead. It ended up with Bucky red faced, coughing up his lungs and tears in his eyes as Peter sprinted from the room while everybody was distracted.

Now here he was, five hours later and itching hands the urged him to pick up the phone. Find comfort in a voice that no longer existed thanks to Peter. It made tears leak out the corners of his eyes and he wanted to trade places with his Uncle, who had been too young to die. It should be Peter in that grave.

_(“Careful around Penis Parker,” Flash taunted loudly, “He’s like a plague. Everybody around him dies eventually.”)_

Peter didn’t bother wiping the tears from his cheeks, the aching in his back was as bad as is. His ears picked up on two distinct heartbeats not too far from his room, one was quick and threatening while the other was calm. He could easily tell who the first one was and if he listened close enough he could hear Mister Stark having a conversation.

”Pep, I don’t know how to talk to the kid.” Mister Stark sounded... stressed.

”He might not even talk to you Tony,” She replied softly. “If he wanted to talk he would’ve talked to somebody already.”

_(“I’m sorry to inform you Mrs. Parker, but your nephew is showing signs of depression, anxiety and maybe post-traumatic stress disorder. Have you noticed any recent changes...” The school counselor’s voice faded away as Peter stared at the wall, clenching his fists so hard his nails broke through his skin)_

“There’s a reason he’s upset and you heard what FRIDAY had to say. Just hold him tight and tell him that you care.”

Peter’s heart lurched in his chest and he held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. When _was_ the last time somebody truly cared? Before he fucked up and caused the ferry to split in half? Before he crashed Mister Stark’s plane? Before he murdered his own loving uncle?

Before his parents died?

May started working so many shifts after Ben was murdered, he rarely ever saw her and if he did she would be passed out on the couch. More times than not he would gingerly lift her, <strike>scared that maybe she’d leave too</strike>, place her in her bed and cover her with her comforter. He would kiss her crown and leave, only looking back once to look at her.

Mister Stark had distanced himself after Germany. It made sense, the genius had zero time for some random teenage orphan that stammered over his words and he had bigger issues to face. The Accords, fixing his relationship with the other Avengers before it was too late, simply relaxing because he deserved it. Peter could think of a million things that Mister Stark deserved but he already had it, there was zero room for the teen in that small part of his heart.

Peter sniffled the tears away at how loud his brain was being and his breath hitched when he heard his doorknob jiggle. He gripped the blanket covering him, hearing the fabric rip. He waited a moment.

”I don’t think I can console a crying kid,” Mister Stark sighed and his shoes scuffed against the ground.

”Tony, he needs you now. More than ever.” Pepper urged him and eventually his door opened. Peter heard Mister Stark’s breath hitch as the door closed quickly but he acted as if he were asleep. Soon there was a weight on his bed that made him sink a little deeper.

_(“Hello?! Hello?! Please, I-Please I’m down here! I’m down here-I can’t move...”)_

“You don’t have to hide Underoos.” Mister Stark’s voice was soft as he gripped the blanket covering the teenager’s head. He sighed, tugging it gently until he could see Peter’s tears and curls.

Peter huffed but he turned despite his body protesting. They stared at each other for a few moments while the teen contemplated his options. He could talk to Mister Stark but it seemed like the hardest thing to do, memories of the ferry incident and homecoming still fresh on his mind. He could hear Aunt May urging him to reach out for help when he needed it, and he felt like sinking even further, he stammered out.

”I-I’m sorry about your-your plane Mister Stark,” He could feel a new round of tears coming but he stared up at the ceiling.

”I don’t care about the plane kid,” Tony muttered. “I-You’re okay and that’s what matters. I’m sorry I took your suit, but you’re more than your suit.”

Peter’s laugh was humorless, “I had it coming.”

It was quiet after that and eventually Mister Stark toed off his shoes. He settled onto the bed completely, situated beside the teen and they stared at the ceiling together. If he would glance he could see that fifteen minutes had already passed since they last spoke and he huffed.

”I shouldn’t have taken your suit.” Mister Stark sighed. He paused before saying, “Peter... I-I saw some interesting footage.”

Peter tensed beside him but he didn’t move, holding his breath. There’s so many things that the billionaire could’ve seen, embarrassing moments from when he nearly shattered his hip because he ran into a bird on patrol or at Coney Island when the Vulture nearly killed him. He heard Mister Stark’s breath hitched before he rushed out his words.

”Tell me you weren’t under that building kid.” He basically begged, “Tell me you weren’t under there when it collapsed. Tell me it-it wasn’t you screaming for help.”

When the tears started to stream into Peter’s hair, he sat up and wrapped his arms around himself. He couldn’t deny it because he was rubbish at lying, but he broke down completely when Mister Stark put a hand on his shoulder. His shoulders shook as he sobbed as quietly as possible but it wouldn’t matter in the end.

It was crushing, the weight of that building stuck on his shoulders ever since and the cracking of his ribs filled the tight space when his screams wouldn’t. The dust in his lungs when all he needed was pure air, his screams so loud security footage picked it up from far away.   
  


He felt numb again and his shoulders slowly stopped shaking. He could still feel Mister Stark’s hand rubbing up and down his back to comfort him, soft and unrecognizable words of encouragement ringing in his ears. His breath sounded like he was still wheezing, but he spoke anyway.

”I was so scared.” Peter’s lip trembled, “I-Nobody came to help me and... I couldn’t call you because I just-I just couldn’t move and I didn’t have my phone a-and-“

”Pete...” Mister Stark trailed off.

”But I just had to get up. I couldn’t-couldn’t let him steal your stuff Mister Stark. His weapons could h-hurt more people and... I remembered what you said about the um- the suit.” Peter sniffed, “What you said... kept ringing in my head and I just did what I-I had to do.”

”You could’ve died kid!” Mister Stark wrapped Peter in a firm hug, “I’ll never take your suit again. Your web shooters won’t be able to jam I-I-“

”It’s okay Mister Stark, I just did what anybody else would’ve done.”

”Nobody else would’ve even made it out of that building Peter.” He replied, “They would’ve turned away and they would’ve let him get away. You put yourself in danger just to make Queens a little safer even after I took away your safety. And for that I really am sorry.”

”Don’t be.” Peter sighed and finally allowed himself to lean into Mister Stark’s touch. They sat there for a while until the teen whispered something.

”What was that Pete?” Mister Stark asked softly.

”It wasn’t your fault,” Peter snorted quietly. “I can feel your guilt complex and I know you are blaming yourself.”

Mister Stark laughed quietly despite a tear slipping down his cheek. He squeezed Peter tighter in his arms, “Can’t help it. I let another person I care about get hurt.”

Peter smiled weakly and he fell asleep, but not before mumbling, “I care about you too Mister Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments/kudos
> 
> this was really trashy ew but i needed to update before i forgot


	3. salty santa claus, eh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter gets kidnapped by a villain-y santa claus and can’t take him seriously, even with a candy cane painted dagger halfway in his abdomen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this gon be really shitty and i was supposed to post this on christmas day but it’s a little late
> 
> WILL I EVER POST A PROPER ENDING TO THESE? PROBABLY NOT

When Peter regained consciousness, he heard... bells chiming and a small cheer of glee. “He’s waking!” was cheered and then the sounds of bells increased until he snapped his eyes open. Inhaling sharply, the room smelled strongly of peppermint which began to irritate his throat. There were peppermint candy canes attached to walls, packed by the hundreds, in the far corner was small, plug-in elves that had glowing red eyes and they continued to cheer. Peter could’ve gagged against the bright Christmas lights that were tied around his wrists and if he tugged enough, which would take some effort because there were so many lights making it hard to see, he could easily break free.

But for now he sat patiently and swallowed weakly. His senses were acting weird but they returned to normal shortly, he wished they hadn’t especially when the Christmas lights seemed brighter and that damn awful smell of peppermint could swirl his brain into paste.

He could see it now, his mushy, peppermint swirled brain pushed into molds to make fucking _soap_. He giggled.

The door slammed open next followed by a pair of thick, black, heavy boots with snow falling off them. Their legs were thin but covered by red cloth littered with tiny snowflakes. If Peter was five years old again, he would’ve cheered_ “Santa Claus!”_ excitedly and beat his fists onto his thighs with a smile brighter than those damn Christmas lights. But when he glanced at the fake, white beard and big Santa hat, his jaw dropped open.

Santa Claus smirked, hand clutching a classic red bag tightly. His other hand was on his hip and those stupid plug-in elves danced to the beat of Jingle Bells. Gut sticking out and all, the pale skinned man should’ve grinned with his chipping teeth.

Peter snorted.

Santa Claus’ smirk was wiped right off when Spider-Man started giggling, breaking off into a full on wheezing fit. If he could, Peter would’ve been clutching his stomach from laughing so hard but can you blame him? Even if he was secured tightly, head to toe, with binding Christmas lights he kicked his legs in amusement.

“Enough!” The impersonator shouted angrily, his bag thrown onto the floor in his fit of rage. Weapons of different sorts came clattering out of the bag, _though they were all Christmas-themed_. Peter laughed loudly, the eyes of his mask scrunched shut as he laughed almost silently.

The man grabbed a fucking red handled dagger, the blade pitch black and if he did know better, Spider-Man would’ve stopped laughing. But he wheezed even as Santa Claus ripped the mask off in one go and gripped the teenager’s chin harshly.

Peter’s eyes shot open and he cried out when the dagger cut into his skin, precisely, into the crease of his right eye. The cut went jagged the minute he opened his eyes and it went further then intended, creating almost a bat wing with the way it reached the hairline above his ear. Santa Claus smirked and stabbed the dagger into the wall, causing the teen to flinch.

Even as the blood pooled into his eye and down the rest of his left side, leaving him almost blind in that eye, he huffed out a forced laugh. “Someone’s... someone’s being naughty.”

The man huffed, “No more from you. Let’s negotiate, shall we?”

”So it’s Deal or No Deal?” Peter’s lip quirked.

He growled in response, “You have inside information on Tony Stark. I need that.”

Peter pursed his lips with a pout, “No deal.”

Santa Claus packs a mean punch, but then again he also had brass knuckles on. The punch landed just above his belly button and knocked the air out of him, despite his spidey sense warning him.

”I need his help with a project,” The man continued. “But he refused, and I grew frustrated. Though I still had hope, and thanks to that I noticed your relationship with him. I would watch you, from your ratty apartment to school to your journey at the tower just to question your importance. Simply another charity case. But then alas, after weeks of watching you, I caught you at the right moment when you crawled out your apartment window fully decked out in the official Spider-Man suit. Tony Stark noticed an assumed hero and took him under his wing once again, that’s all another trick. I thought why else. But you’re truly a genius, a mind that can even leave the great Tony Stark stumped on a good day. Unfortunately I hate teenagers or else I would’ve asked for your help but point is, I need Stark. I just needed you to help me persuade him. With Christmas in just two days, I assume Stark would want his baby boy home, you’ll eventually go home, but not without some damage done.”

Peter stifled his giggles and served the impersonator with a glare, “I’m not Mister Stark’s kid and watching a minor is such a pedophile move, Mister Claus.”

”Maybe, but Stark does the same thing.” Santa Claus snapped, “Probably even more. You receive gifts for getting the job done, eh?”

Peter didn’t bother to hide his disgust, “Are you seriously implying that _Tony Stark_-“

Santa punched him right across his mouth, brass knuckles clicking against the teeth. Peter gasped in pain, blood beginning to trickle from his mouth. The man smirked and watched as the blood trickled down the teen’s neck.

”Don’t worry. For now, I have a phone call to make. But,” He paused, “It would be wrong for me to leave you sitting here wouldn’t it?”

Peter’s questioning glance was replaced with a horrified one. The impersonator pulled and red and white striped hook from the ceiling, swiftly plunging it into Spider-Man’s right shoulder. Peter screamed loudly and everything went white for a moment, his screams bounced off every wall and increased in volume when he was hauled off the ground. His feet dangled as he involuntarily moved, the hook in his shoulder squelched. Screams were replaced with sobs and his wrists came free but it didn’t even matter anymore, because he was literally hanging from his fucking shoulder, tears mixing with the blood on his face.

Spider-Man suit ruined, the whole right side of his shirt drenched with blood and Santa just laughed. He said something else and slammed the door shut but Peter didn’t hear it, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when he couldn’t muster up enough strength to get himself down.

* * *

”Wake up!”

Peter gasped when cold water rained down on him suddenly. He coughed and groaned at the pain in his shoulder, his face scrunched up as he managed to look at the Santa-themed villain. His yellow, crooked teeth were grinning at the distressed teenager, a laugh tickling up his throat.

”So you’re going to cooperate now?” The imposter snickered, “Even though torturing little boys is enough for me, I’d save it for later.”

He pressed his thumb on the teen’s shoulder, “Are you going to cooperate?!”

Peter cried out involuntarily, welled up tears started to stream down his bloody face. He refused to answer the question, though it was answer enough to the imposter. The thumb pressed harder into the wound, blood gushing out and Peter only sobbed in response.

‘Santa Claus’ growled in frustration, “Don’t make me do something only you would regret, Mister Parker.”

Spider-Man grunted, his eyes glued shut as the man began to drag his fingers down the front of the teen’s chest. Just as the impersonator’s fingers reached down far enough to make Peter squirm and kick involuntarily, the left wall burst open.

Opening his good eye, Peter could see the glint of the famous Iron Man armor and Black Widow’s stoic face. They had their arms raised, prepared to attack, when Tony’s voice rang in his ears.

”Don’t you have presents to deliver tomorrow, Saint Nick?” Tony’s voice hitched just barely, but you couldn’t tell with the eyes of the Iron Man mask.

”Hands off.” Natasha spoke clearly, eyebrow raised as if to challenge the impersonator. “Step away from Spider-Man.”

Peter could feel his body relaxing in relief, making brief eye contact with the ex-assassin. Her upper lip twitched into a smile for less than a second before her face schooled once again. The Santa Claus imposter scoffed, a dagger in his other hand that he raised to Peter’s throat.

”Come on now,” The man smiled. “Don’t wanna end up on the naughty list now do we, Miss Romanoff?”

The Iron Man suit stepped closer and the dagger pushed against Peter’s throat, a sound of distress made behind closed lips as new blood began to trail down the front of his suit. The teen could hear Tony’s breath hitch and Natasha nearly growled. The imposter laughed with a wide grin, a crazed glint in his eyes.

Peter grunted and before Santa Claus could utter another word, kicked him in the chest as hard as possible. He screamed at the pain in his shoulder and watched the man fly across the room. Just then Captain America and Hawkeye burst through the original door the impersonator used earlier, weapons drawn but they saw the unconscious man on the floor. Tony basically clawed his way out of the Iron Man suit to run to the teen’s side.

”Mister Stark!” Peter sobbed, “It-It hurts please I-“

Tears streaming down his face, he wanted to curl in on himself. The pain was spreading throughout his entire body and he groaned. Suddenly, Captain America was grimacing as his shoulder wound.

”We need to get him down, Stark.” He said reluctantly.

”Okay,” Tony gripped Peter’s face in his hands gently. The pads of his thumbs wiped away tears, “We’re gonna pull the hook out, ‘kay? Rogers will hold you up and Nat will take it out, then I can book it toward the compound. Got it?”

”Hurry Mis-Mister Stark,” Peter choked out. “I-I can’t it hurts s-so bad!”

”On three...” Miss Romanoff’s voice bounced around in Peter’s brain and before he could register Steve’s arms around his waist, there was a searing pain all through his right side. He screamed loudly as noise erupted from everyone in the room. “Pet... Tony go!— Cl—“ He sobbed as even with his eyes clenched shut, he could see dark dots swimming in his vision.

”Mi-Tony?” Peter whispered quietly, his body beginning to sag in the man’s arms. “I’m really-really tired.”

”Kid you can’t... Wake— Pete! You need...”

But Peter’s head was already lolled to the side, his body becoming dead weight as blood painted the Iron Man armor a new shade of red.


	4. spider-man, peter parker, same thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i get it, some shit in the last chapter didn’t make sense but i am sleep deprived forgive me
> 
> -i don’t know shit about new york, hi i live in california and i google a lot of the things i don’t know off the top of my head so i apologize if nothing is one hundred percent accurate. so like hypothermia, mental illnesses, etc., i definitely google. sorry again :)

Spider-Man didn’t like fighting without his webs, the fact he couldn’t secure a person without harm almost frightened him but these weren’t people. He couldn’t use his webs to spare himself some time to get away, the chemical mixture stuck to the tops of buildings just dangling in the wind because of these stupid machines. All of his canisters were empty and as a last resort, the vigilante used Captain America’s shield to protect himself from turning into a kabob.

There were robots, all designed the same way with creepy, neon green eyes. Tentacles stuck out the front of their long bodies, stabbing into the ground or the side of a building to get around. Some hovered but not many, it wasn’t a necessity. They all had the same goal too, their creation made for one purpose only.

Kill the Avengers.

His ribs ached as he ducked behind a dumpster in an alley, patting his side again just in case he did have an extra canister of web-fluid. Much to his disappointment there was nothing there except an aching side.

”Karen, can you get me into the Avengers’ comms?” Spider-Man panted, hand pressed gently against his right side. The famous superhero group had arrived not too long ago, badass and all, but the vigilante had already been fighting these things for over thirty minutes, officially running himself tired after being slammed into a lamp-post. Peter wasn’t all too excited about skipping another history test but as soon as he saw the robots, he made a run for it.

(More like towards it, but he scowled at the thought.)

  
The robots flew over buildings, the buzz of the machinery could only be heard by Peter’s ears alone. But he’d take that over civilians screaming.

(They still screamed, but with glee when noticing the Avengers plus Spider-Man coming to their rescue.)

Noise erupted in his ears and he winced silently. He pressed himself onto the wall even more, for just a few extra minutes they could handle this without him. Spider-Man needed a breather, but when he was ready to fight again, he wanted to know where he was needed prior to acting.

”Captain Rogers,” Spider-Man’s voice was clear against the tremors of his body. “Where do you need me.”

”There’s a building on Fifth Avenue. Help Black Widow and Hawkeye over there,” Captain Rogers spoke with a pant at the end of his sentence. “I have a feeling these ‘bots aren’t the friendly type.”

”No I’m pretty sure it’s a peace offering!” Hawkeye yelled but everybody ignored him.

”What exactly_ is_ the friendly type?” Mister Stark quipped, the sound of his repulsors clear over the comms. Karen quieted the noise as Spider-Man began to make his way to Fifth Avenue.

”The hunks of metal you keep in your lab.” Bucky Barnes’ voice was tight but teasing, his metal arm glinting while he shot down multiple robots at a time. Peter wouldn’t ever get over it.

”Karen, mute.” Spider-Man almost sighed with relief when the noise disappeared. “Only alert me if it’s an emergency.”

Black Widow landed gracefully onto the ground after smashing one of the robots with her bare hands. Her eyebrow quirked in amusement and her eyes flashed with recognition, though her expression quickly schooled into that assassin everybody feared. Spider-Man simply smiled underneath his mask and they worked simultaneously, Hawkeye shooting down the ones that hovered from rooftop to rooftop.

Spider-Man landed in a crouch beside the feared assassin. A robot sputtered from it’s spot on the asphalt, a harsh kick and it died before it could reboot. Black Widow nodded with satisfaction clear in the upturn of her lip.

“No webs today?” She called out as she began to walk away. It wasn’t an undercover mission to lure a dangerous man in so her hips didn’t sway but Spider-Man followed right behind her, a lost puppy with nowhere else to go. She always stood tall and he wished he could too, but his slouch was still apparent even when the red and blue spandex covered his pale skin.

”Ran out.” Spider-Man replied curtly. He rolled his shoulders and stepped into a tall, vacant building. He glanced around and straightened his back, a small wheeze leaving his parted lips.

Her gaze snapped to him for a few seconds at the noise but she didn’t comment on it. “We would’ve been sooner had Ross stopped screaming at Tony.”

He took it as a silent apology even though it probably wasn’t what she meant. Black Widow then turned and walked down an empty hallway. He had no choice but to follow.

Peter’s curiosity got the best of him, “What was it about this time?”

”Banner.” Her reply was short yet never simple. He wanted to ask why but the ex-assassin wasn’t there for Peter Parker’s curiousness, only Spider-Man’s abilities.

Though Peter Parker bled into everything he kept separated.

Somehow fear clutched Spider-Man’s heart as the light got darker the further they walked, water dripping eerily. He gulped down his panic and ignored a memory of Toomes’ face before getting crushed. He had a mission and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish it.

The building they had entered was barely taller than the warehouse but it felt heavier, he wasn’t the only one who could get hurt. But the ex-assassin, famous Black Widow, was more than capable of holding her own. She could do this whole superhero thing without the other Avengers if she truly wanted, independence still rumbling in every step she took.

Peter and Spider-Man admired that about her.  
  


“Something happen?” She asked, glancing around in the darkness.

”What do you mean?” Spider-Man asked, his hand brushing against a wall. He turned to look at her.

”You’re quiet today.” She pointed out, “No quips today?”

”I guess not.” Spider-Man replied and turned on his heel. His pace was quick, obviously reluctant to had even been inside the oddly abandoned building. He already noticed disarmed robots in the corners of the room they abandoned but perhaps he should’ve observed it closer.

He shrugged his shoulders almost as because he wanted out of this building and allowed Natasha to take the lead.

He heard something that made his heart stutter and his footsteps halt. Spider-Man thought nothing of it but gosh, Peter couldn’t help but think of a collapsing building and _oh my god I’m going to die here We’re gonna die—_

“Spider-Man, _let’s go_.” Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard it against the ticking. A simple tug on his spandex-covered arm and they bolted.

The ticking was too loud when it grabbed their attention, the bombs set to go off any second. Their feet pounded against the floor, the entrance they walked through not even five minutes ago seemed so far away. Daylight seeped in through the glass doors and before Spider-Man could comprehend anything, a sharp buzz traveled down his spine and he was shielding Black Widow against the deafening boom.

The first bomb that went off was enough to shake the building. It groaned and creaked but had yet to collapse until another went off, closer to the entrance. Their only chance of freedom.

His sticky feet weren’t enough to keep them in one place so they skidded back a few at the bomb, Black Widow—_Natasha_—sounding a protest that fell against deaf ears because then the building collapsed. It’s weight falling on Spider-Man’s back and causing him to fall but he shielded Natasha even as the weight got heavier on his back.

Her eyes were clenched shut and she shielded her face from the damage, but nothing rained down. All she could hear was loud ringing and sharp intakes of breath, her eyes snapping open to meet the white lenses of Spider-Man’s mask.

Peter grunted and his arms shook slightly but they steadied once again. He couldn’t afford for them to give way, that would mean crushing both him and Black Widow, and he certainly didn’t want Natasha Romanoff’s death to his name. He clenched his teeth and the ringing in his ears eventually turned to static, his head swimming. He could see her eyes open wide and they looked uncertain as he held the weight of the building.

Spider-Man was getting tired very fast and Peter Parker wasn’t much stronger.

The static in his ear turned into a voice. “...Spid— Report... Come in—“

Suddenly the weight on his back got lighter as a slab of concrete slid off by itself, but it made him cry in agony. Pain exploded within him and he grunted with his head hung low, if his mask was off his curls would’ve tickled the light dust of freckles on Natasha’s cheeks. His lungs felt like rocks in his chest and he could already feel blood pouring from his mouth, his arms involuntarily shivered before he forced them to steady as much as they could.

”Cap, Barnes, we need assistance.” Natasha spoke into her own comms and her eyes didn’t look uncertain anymore. They were soft when they caught his own but held every ounce of determination he wished he could scrape up.   
  


He could hear Bucky’s reply. “ETA two minutes, stay where you are.”

”Don’t-“ Peter groaned. “Don’t really h-have a choice.”

Natasha frowned at his wavering voice and spoke into her comms once more, “Stark can you get here now?”

”I’m sort of busy, Agent Romanoff.” Came the reply.

”It’s urgent.” Black Widow replied and her determined eyes met his, “Spider-Man isn’t going to last long.”

”What do you mean Romanoff?” Captain Rogers and Mister Stark demanded to know.

”He’s holding the building up...” She trailed off with a wheeze. Her leg was bleeding and it was bright against the dusty area around them, a slab of concrete trapping her leg. The dust swirling around them made it harder to breathe and they could hear the gasps of the team.

Spider-Man swallowed the blood in his mouth, “Take t-the mask.”

“No.” Black Widow was firm but Spider-Man was too.

”Natasha, take it. It-It’ll help you breathe better.” His arms shook slightly and he grunted again.

”I’m fine and besides,” She countered. “You’re holding up the building Peter. You’re doing so well.”

He grunted in response, his arms beginning to shake even more as blood dripped from somewhere unknown. Natasha noticed too and frowned, her hand brushing against the back of his forearms. Another whimper and tremor.

”We’re here!” Rogers’ voice was loud in the comms.

”Hang on kid!” Mister Stark’s shout was more urgent.

Tears formed in his eyes but Spid—Peter—grunted. He’ll be damned if he gets taken out by this, he could lift a building off him once and he could certainly do it again. It didn’t change the fear in his heart but his exhaustion was replaced with a new set of adrenaline, his arms were going to hold up the building for as long as they needed.

Natasha looked uncertain again, her usually rose-tinted cheeks were ashen and sweat glistened in the darkness. Another tremor. He was losing the classic Spider-Man confidence and the pain was hitting him hard again. He wheezed and his body considerably lowered, almost enough to crush the woman under him. Spider-Man still held up though, arms shaking but he was determined.

The slabs of concrete were being removed at a remarkable pace but for each one that was removed, Peter felt a new wave of exhaustion. Natasha looked alarmed and right as the daylight broke through and illuminated the dark space they were stuck in, his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He collapsed and Natasha couldn’t stop her pained gasped. He couldn’t hear her but if he did, he would’ve been so guilty.

* * *

”Here in a viral video posted from an anonymous website, you can see the famous Avengers battling an impressive amount of drones designed to specifically harm the superhero group alone. Spider-Man was the first to arrive on scene despite Manhattan not being his place of work, keeping the drones at bay until the superhero group arrived. Just ten minutes later you can see Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and James Barnes, formally known as the Winter Soldier, pulling their fellow teammate Black Widow and Queens’ very own vigilante, Spider-Man, from mountains of debris after the entire building collapsed with them inside. Multiple bombs were placed inside differing buildings on Fifth Avenue, yet no one had noticed until it was too late. We are still unaware of Spider-Man’s identity and whether they’re okay...”

The television shut off and in a quick motion Natasha was sitting in the chair right beside his bed. Peter avoided her stony eyes and wished it was May, he didn’t wanna look at her injuries. He could already see the brace on her lower left leg, bandages under her rumpled tank-top. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sniffed, instant regret when he felt a sharp twinge.

”Easy spider baby.” She joked, propping her leg up on his bed. The television remote was still in her right hand, knuckles white. ”Do you need Bruce to up your meds?”

”Are you okay?” He croaked but he finally met her eyes. The color was slowly returning to her cheeks and her slightly grown out hair was pulled into a side braid. She smiled and sighed.

”Better than you.”

Peter smiled sheepishly and averted his eyes. The continuous beep of his heart monitor filled the silence but it was still tense, eventually he couldn’t sit in it anymore.

”Was—Is the team okay?” He swallowed, “There were other bombs a-and I think I hear Sam’s heartbeat in the other room-“

”Sam’s in surgery for his ankle, messed up his landing when he came to help us.” Natasha explained.

Peter gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry Miss Romanoff! I should’ve—I could’ve gotten us out-“

”It’s Nat.” She replied. With a sigh she took her braced foot off his bed and sat closer to him. “Thank you Peter.”

He paused and looked at her, a frown on his face. There was still blood on his lips from when he woke up earlier, but otherwise his face was okay. He shook his head, curls falling in front of his face.

”You shouldn’t thank me.”

”And why not?” Natasha replied, “You saved my life.”

”Captain Rogers and Mister Barnes saved your life, I didn’t.” He deadpanned.

”Peter it was _you_ that held up that building long enough for help to come. If it hadn’t been for you I would’ve been crushed, barely clinging to life. I’m not enhanced like you or Rogers, and you went ahead to protect me.” She laughed quietly, “I’m definitely no damsel in distress but I needed your help then. I’m thankful, the whole team is. Even Stark, even though he threatened to bench you for giving him a heart attack.”

Peter gaped at her, brown eyes wide. Surely that wasn’t true, right? The Avengers should hate him for putting Natasha in danger, but when he met her eyes, it was the most genuine you’d see her. He swallowed the lump in his throat but tears still formed in his eyes.

He felt her gentle touch on his shoulder and the tears streamed. Covering his mouth with a shaking hand, simply in disbelief. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. But even to him it seemed right.

”Stark is grateful though.” Natasha muttered, “We both came out okay, he said he couldn’t afford to lose anything else.”

Peter’s heart clenched when she said that, but she cleared her throat.

”I’ll go check on the old men, sooner or later they’ll wrap you in bubble wrap and never let you leave.” Natasha said before she stood, and she was still steady on her feet, taller than before.

”They can’t do that!” Peter gasped from his bed.

”Please, Barnes and Rogers found out you’re fifteen already. Barnes could’ve popped a blood vessel, he screamed at Stark. Whole team did in fact.” She cackled as she opened the door to the room, “I can’t lose the spider kid! You’re my partner in crime!”

Clint’s muffled “Hey!” could be heard outside the doors and Peter laughed loudly, ignoring the pain in her side. If that bright laugh put a smile on Natasha’s face, nobody knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u guys tell i hate mcu clint
> 
> oh and it’s prolly not realistic for peter to hold up the building that long but fuck you :)


	5. orange juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school has started back up and my mental health is down the drain again which really really sucks but i saw spies in disguise! it was really good and i think all age groups would enjoy it :)
> 
> here’s to me projecting myself onto peter bc i don’t know how to properly seek help lol
> 
> i apologize for mistakes! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: BULIMIA AND STARVATION  

> 
> NEW TAGS: bulimia, anorexia, michelle jones is a good bro

This was Peter Parker’s downfall.

His favorite grey sweatshirt didn’t fit him perfectly anymore and Ned could see his collarbones, but he scribbled down notes as if nothing was wrong. His fingers couldn’t grip the black pen correctly to the point where he gave up all together. Peter breathed deeply into his hands, tears of frustration clinging to his lashes, and his curls untamed that fell which ever way they desired. Ned’s gaze was piercing now and the concern would’ve been enough to make him squirm but he ignored it the best he could.

Peter’s stomach clenched tightly, and his mouth watered when Flash pulled out a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It wasn’t even close to his favorite sandwich from Delmar’s or the one meal Aunt May managed to decently cook but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something without it ending up in the toilet. The teen settled on popping a piece of mint gum into his mouth and ignoring the upset rumble in his stomach.

Michelle’s definitely caught an idea of his downward spiral, her hidden glances full of more and more worry as each day passes and Peter gets paler, quieter, and just flat out duller. She’d even went as far as trying to pull him aside after Academic Decathlon, but he slipped from her grasp and faded into the pale hallways of Midtown High.

She was worried.

Peter felt guilty. While Aunt May or Ned worrying was a normal occurrence, Michelle Jones never showed her emotions. The most you’d get out of her was annoyance, when Flash would start fat shaming Ned or calling Peter gay just for the hell of it, she’d call him out, embarrass him in front of the team. But for her to be worried of him? The pale skinned slob who’s hands trembled twenty four seven?

He thought he would never see it.

The guilt was consuming and made his stomach lurch, though he continued to stare at his messy hand writing. His fingers would tremble in his lap but he opted to hide his hands in the now-too-long-sleeves. The ticking of the clock was silent on his ears and his thoughts were thick like clay, hardening over time.Only when the bell rang did he come out of his thoughts.

”—eter, I figured since you eat so much you should have the rest of my sandwich!” Flash’s taunts rang in his head and brought tears in to his eyes.

_I was doing good though, wasn’t I?_ Peter thought bitterly to himself and with a wave of aggression, slapped Flash’s hand out of his face hard. The peanut butter and jelly was forgotten about as the class hushed, but the teen had other things to do.

Ned moved to place a hand on the teen’s shoulder and Michelle began _tearing_ away at Flash, who stood shocked and clutched his bright red hand with his other. Without a second glance Peter darted out of the classroom, tears successfully falling down his hollow cheeks.

”Sorry! Excuse me—“ Peter would yelp every time he bumped into another student in the hallways, skin itching and bile rising. He eventually had to clamp his mouth shut and barely made it into the abandoned bathroom where he dry heaved into the toilet.

His exhaustion caught up with him and he fell onto his knees, leaving them bruised. Peter sobbed at the sharp, stabbing pain in his throat which left stomach acid and now blood in the porcelain bowl.

It was tiny sprinkles of blood against the now murky water, but it felt overflowing in his mind. He couldn’t help but sob harder, head hanging and fingers barely gripping the rim of the toilet. The stall door slammed open and Ned’s quiet gasp could be heard.

”Peter!” Michelle crouched beside him, gripping his shoulder. “Ned get the nurse.”

”I’m okay.” Peter’s voice trembled and he lifted his head. “Don’t get the n-nurse.”

Michelle’s voice hardened, “You need help Peter.” She turned to Ned, “Get the nurse. Now.”

Peter waited until Ned left to spit into the toilet again. He rested his head against the rim, closing his eyes to avoid Michelle’s hard gaze. He instead focused on her gentle grip, her small comfort doing great numbers on him.

”I don’t need help y’know.” He mumbled tiredly, eyes still closed.

”Yes you do.” She insisted but she just didn’t get it, did she?

”I really don’t. Why do you think I need help? Why do you even _care_, Michelle?” He could feel his irritation beginning to show, but it was so wrong. A small part of his mind begged for this help for weeks now, it was just wrong to snap at the one person who’s bothering to reach out. But why would she, of all people, waste her time with this?

For a moment it was just silence, prompting Peter to open his eyes. He was taken aback to see Michelle holding back tears, an enraged but shocked expression settled in the crease of her eyebrows. She blinked and looked him right in his eyes.

”Peter why _wouldn’t_ I care?” Her voice was surprisingly firm, bouncing off the bathroom walls. “You and Ned have been the only ones to bother interacting with me, look at me like I’m a normal person instead some weird girl who stalks people, but you’re always—you! Even after a hard day on patrol you ramble on and off about spending the evening with May or gush about the latest thing you and Tony Stark updated in the Iron Man armor. 

“So when Spider-Man suddenly stopped showing up in the news weeks ago, everyone got worried about Spider-Man. But you Peter, you haven’t been the same. You rarely ever talk and when you do you sound like somebody chopped up your vocal chords. Your clothes hang off your shoulders because you don’t eat anymore! Anytime you do it’s something as simple as an orange or a fucking celery stick, then you skip your fifth period to puke it all up.

”It’s scary Peter! Looking back on team photos and seeing the difference is so scary, and the fact that it’s barely been three months? The fact that a single comment Flash said was enough to start this—your fucking downfall—is the most terrifying thing ever. None of us recognize you anymore.”

By now a few tears streamed down her face and she removed her hand from his shoulder to wipe them away. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and sniffled. It couldn’t be true, it just wasn’t. He looked her in the eyes and he just knew that she wasn’t lying, but he didn’t wanna believe it, not at all.

Ned returned with the nurse at his side, but she had yet to take action. Instead, his best friend piped up.

“Mister Stark texted me two weeks after you stopped showing up at the Tower. May texted me, begging me to get you to eat more. Betty even noticed, she’s slipped packets of crackers into your bag when you’d leave for long periods of times. Peter we care. So much more than you could even think of.”

It hurt to see his best friend cry, thick tears dripping onto his jacket. Peter licked his lips and looked away, swallowing down the guilt.

”You’re killing yourself Peter,” Michelle’s voice broke on the word. “Can’t you see that?”

Peter’s breath shuddered as he took a moment to look back. He couldn’t help but feel awful, the past months dismissing his friends’ worried glances and Aunt May’s tearful hugs that lingered longer, even going as far as blocking Mister Stark on his number. His heart sank because he’d changed so much, but all he’d been able to see in the mirror was too much baby fat and flabby arms. It wasn’t even real!   
  


All this trouble over a comment.

Peter couldn’t help but giggle tearfully. “I really need help MJ.”

The nurse then squeezed beside them but he focused on the girl in front of him who laughed sadly.   
  


“We’ll be here along the way. Promise you that, loser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY THIS IS REALLY BAD BUT I PLAN ON DOING A PART TWO TO THIS? WHERE PETER WORKS UP THE COURAGE TO TALK TO TONY AND HE GETS HIS WELL DESERVED FUCKING HUG?
> 
> also y’all should comment w more ideas for future chapters, like prompts and shit kk?
> 
> leave comments/kudos :D


	6. killing you softly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part two of orange juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thor is an awkward character to write about bc how ?? how do i fucking write him ??
> 
> btw im not a doctor
> 
> ik bruce isn’t that kind of doctor but dammit >:( bonding
> 
> NEW TAGS: medical inaccuracies

Peter gnawed on his bottom lip, a sharp tremor running through his body. MJ had ordered him to stay with Aunt May who had come to pick him up, a soft but powerful threat he wished not to repeat aloud. Though as soon as she fell asleep on the couch Peter put his coat on and left. He let his feet carry him miles away and now he stood in front of the famous Avengers Tower, the sunset creating a shadow in which he stood.

His eyes burned with possibilities running through his mind. There are so many things that could happen, that Tony could say, all which could end negatively. And he didn’t know if he could handle that.

But Aunt May said it was good to have more people to lean on.

In all honesty Peter felt so guilty every time he declined Tony’s calls. They eventually stopped coming about three weeks ago, a simple voicemail at three a.m. He remembered it word for word and it rang through his mind every time he purged.

_”Hey kid...” Tony’s concern was evident. “I just wanted to call.. see how you’re doing. Please come by the tower some time.. I’m worried about you Pete. Spider-Man disappeared and now you have too. Just... come by? Take care kid, and call me if you need me... FRI...”_

Peter swallowed and started toward the glass doors, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Even if Tony no longer cared, he at least deserved an explanation. So he marched into the building and quietly nodded to an intern he forgot the name of. She smiled at him though so he continued on. He only stopped after being addressed.

”Welcome back Peter.” FRIDAY’s sounded excited, “Shall I alert Boss that you’re here?”

Peter gnawed on his lip again. “No FRI, I’ll talk to him. Take me to him please.”

”Very well Peter, good to have you back.” FRIDAY replied and the elevator doors closed behind him. He sighed heavily and leaned his head back, eyes bright red from crying earlier. His head pounded and his mouth was dry, all in all he looked rough to.  
  


His heart sank the longer they traveled up, but his mind was set. There was no turning back now, unless he wanted to rip open the elevator doors and book it. But that was a lot of damage that he would feel even more guilty for. So he continued to stare at the roof of the elevator even when the doors opened.

Laughter bubbled all around him. At first glance, Peter saw various amounts of games going on at once. Natasha and Wanda sat off on their own, Scrabble taking up the space in between their knees. The duo turned to look at him and smiled kindly, recognition in their eyes before they turned back to the game. Surrounding the coffee table was Sam and Clint, Tony and Bruce, Steve and Bucky, and finally Thor and Vision.

It was easy to see that Tony and Bruce were doing much better than the other pairs, seeing as Sam and Clint continued to argue loudly over one another and the others didn’t know what to do. Steve looked content though, his head resting on Bucky’s shoulder who seemed frustrated. Thor and Vision just looked confused but didn’t talk much.

Tony looked plain tired. So did Bruce.

It worried him, the so called “Science Bros” had terrible bags under their eyes and Bruce didn’t bother pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Two nearly empty coffee mugs sat beside them, almost as if they were dragged out of their labs to participate in game night.

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. With his hands deep in his pockets, he walked over timidly. Thor met his eye first and smiled widely, knocking over the game to stand up at his full height. “It is the Man of Spiders!”

As Thor pulled him into an absolute bone-crushing hug, Peter heard the silence that fell over the rest of the Avengers. When the God of Thunder set him down, he frowned.

”Are you alright Peter?” Steve spoke through the silence. It seems that everybody noticed his red eyes and collarbones, that Dr. Banner were staring at with a great amount of concern. The teenage vigilante didn’t answer though and simply turned towards the two geniuses.

”Can I talk to you? Maybe Dr. Cho too?” Peter sounded so shy, all their eyes on him. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

”Cho is in Seattle, young Peter!” Thor bellowed, “She said not to bother her unless someone is dying, so are you?”

Peter grimaced and avoided his gaze. Mr. Stark looked like a fish with his mouth opening every few seconds and Dr. Banner’s concern only grew. The scientist stood and wobbly legs, Mr. Stark following suit.

”We can talk in my lab?” Bruce offered to which Peter nodded.

The trio left the gaping Avengers in their seats, eventually speeding up when they heard Clint get to his feet, trailing behind them while stammering questions. _(“Why-Peter what?!)_ Eventually Clint was left behind and Peter breathed heavily as the elevator doors closed, suddenly he was wrapped in a huge warm hug. It was Mr. Stark, with a deep inhale from him before he pulled away just as quick. It took everything in Peter not to cry, which honestly wasn’t much, but the man looked even more worn down up close.

Nonetheless the man had a relieved smile on his face, dimmed down enough that it made the heavy stone of guilt in Peter’s stomach to sink further, but his facial hair was outgrown and his lashes caught the tears that didn’t fall. Mr. Stark was wearing an older band t-shirt that was covered in motor oil, hinting that he’d been pulled from his lab for game night, and his hair had been cut recently. It was most likely Pepper’s doing and a simple appointment later the man’s hair was shorter.

Through his thoughts he saw Mr. Stark’s lips moving but the words didn’t reach his ears. “Good to have you back,” He had said, but the teenager cocked his head in confusion. The older man laughed then turned to Bruce who seemed delighted to watch the interaction but his smile lingered when looking at Peter.

Bruce had automatically taken a liking to the vigilante about seven months ago when they had bumped into each other in passing. Peter had dropped his web-fluid all over Bruce’s research papers but the scientist looked starstruck while observing the webs, sticking a pencil that was behind his ear into it, tugging with a look of fascination. He’d commented something about the tensile strength being off the charts but Peter hadn’t heard a word. He stammered over his words before “_Holyshityou’reBruceBanner_!” tumbled from his lips and he shot into an embarrassing ramble. He went on and on about gamma radiation and idolizing the scientist since he was a kid, web-fluid and research papers forgotten about for what seemed like forever. In the end Bruce invited Peter to his lab where they studied his powers, since the secret was out anyway.

They’d figured out his metabolism is just like Steve’s and he was slightly faster than him too, though they hadn’t gotten around to testing out his strength when Mr. Stark stormed in with steam pooling out of his ears.

Point is, Bruce likes Peter.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and then the tension returned, Bruce clearing his throat as he went straight for an IV. Peter sat himself down gingerly onto the crinkled paper and successfully avoid Mr. Stark’s gaze for a full two minutes, the scientist making his way over with a cotton ball. The scientist sighed heavily, inserting the IV quickly before Peter could dwell on it for too long. It still hurt seeing as the catheter wasn’t as thin as usual, but he bit his bottom lip to keep quiet. He didn’t know much about IV’s but he surely wasn’t a fan of them. Just as Bruce secured it neatly on his skin, Mr. Stark piped up.

”Stop chewing on your lip kid,” His brow was furrowed in concern. “You’ll swallow it.”

Peter frowned slightly and nodded. He thanked Bruce with a nod and twisted his hands together, the scientist sitting beside Mr. Stark with a clipboard balancing on his thigh. He cleared his throat and wrote something, finally pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Bruce was the easiest to read, the questions he wanted to ask lay on the tip of his tongue but the questions he needed to ask were supposed to come first for a basic check up, he sighed again.

”So Pete-“ Bruce started but was cut off.

”I’m-I’m sorry you know?” Peter said while looking at the two geniuses, “I-I didn’t mean to um, cut you off at all and I totally would’ve come over but then—I needed time?”

But it had him asking, _time for what? _It wasn’t like he needed time to figure out what he was doing was extremely destructive, he just needed time to work up the courage to ask for help. Yet here he was, with the two Avengers he trusted the most (Aside from Natasha, Wanda and Rhodey), but he stammered and his breath hitched and _oh god they already know-_

“Pete it’s okay.” Bruce said, his arms outstretched as a warning? Offering, maybe? Peter didn’t know but he was scared, though not of the scientist. “Take your time, we’re listening.”  
  


“I think I need help.” Peter blurted, which had the two men snap their gazes toward him. Mr. Stark’s nonchalant expression dropped and he leaned forward with concern while Bruce clicked his pen one, two, three, four times against the clipboard that he now held firmly.

And just like that it felt easier to breathe. Admitting that allowed him to inhale deeply without his insides burning because now he could build off of that. He twisted he fingers still but he sat up straighter, repeating what he’d said.

”I think I need help,” Peter said softly and began to explain. “It’s gotten to the point where I-I’m not healthy anymore and I couldn’t even continue being Spider-Man. It hurt—I’m always in pain...”

He trailed off and met Mr. Stark’s eyes. The concern was so evident it made his stomach twist, so genuine it made Peter’s teeth rotten because it was so sweet. The older man nodded encouragingly and took a deep breath. Bruce’s clicked his pen another four times with his lip between his teeth, his nonchalant expression barely holding up.

”Okay Peter, I’m going to ask you some questions based on what you have told me.” Bruce stated, “Is that okay? Would you like Tony to leave?”

“N-No.” _He’s my rock_, “He can stay.”

”Very well. So you mentioned needing help and being in constant pain. Is this pain self-inflicted?“ Bruce read something off his clipboard before looking him in the eye.

Peter frowned and shrugged his shoulders, so Bruce nodded.

”Could you describe what hurts? It could help in figuring out what’s wrong exactly.”

”Um, my mouth, throat and stomach mainly.” Peter thought aloud, “But um, I’ve been dizzy a lot lately. My heart beat is weird—irregular— my cheeks will swell. I’m tired all the time, mentally too I guess.”

It was silent for a while after that while Bruce scribbled down what Peter said, Mr. Stark staring anywhere other than where he sat. Bruce stood with a frown on his face and pulled on another pair of gloves, making his way over. With a sigh he started, “I’m just going to feel around your throat okay? Look for inflammation.”

Peter nodded and winced when Bruce pushed gently against his neck, right under his jawline. The older man frowned and grabbed the boys hand, observing the calloused knuckles. The crease in his forehead deepened at that and he stepped back for a moment. Peter looked at Mr. Stark who happened to pull out his tablet, actively working on a new suit. A new _Spider-Man suit _based solely on the reflection behind him.

Bruce returned and instructed him to open his mouth, placing a popsicle stick on his tongue. With a flashlight he peered inside and frowned again. After that he motioned for Peter to step on a scale in the corner of the room, far away from Mr. Stark. Bruce scribbled down a number in the corner of his paper and then asked what Peter did daily. What he ate, when he exercised, when he left the house, etc. They eventually made their way back to Mr. Stark who was anxiously tapping his foot.

”FRIDAY scan these papers, will you?” Bruce said as he removed them from his clipboard. 

“Scan complete.” The AI replied.

”Display all information, come up with a diagnosis, and tell one of the idiots in the common room to start a pot of coffee.” Bruce said after looking at Tony. “We’ll need it.”

After a moment FRIDAY replied, “Very well Doctor Banner. Displaying all information now.”

To Peter’s left a hologram flickered to life, Bruce’s quick-written notes turned into automated writing beside him. There were notes about his weight loss, after five months and thirty-eight pounds lost, he was officially classed underweight. His eating and sleeping habits were compared which made him cringe. Peter wasn’t ready when FRIDAY began reading off her diagnosis.

”Based off of what Doctor Banner gathered, it’s assumed that Peter is suffering from bulimia nervosa. People who suffer...”

Peter’s ears rang after hearing what FRIDAY came up with, but he already knew it was possible. Forcing his fingers down his throat mixed with skipping at least one meal a day for the past few months? Yeah, it was more than likely but it was different. Bulimia nervosa wasn’t supposed to happen to him, it was the girl in his freshman biology class with swollen cheeks and thin hair. When she did manage a forced smile her teeth were worn down and her hands were calloused, eyes always rimmed red. Her name was Julianna, he had worked with her on a group project. She was smart but she couldn’t present in front of the class, if her arms not wrapped around her middle they’d find their home by her neck. Her voice was hoarse and he only heard it when she thanked him for bringing up her grade, she never returned to Midtown.

It never occurred to him that he was in that place now. Swollen cheeks and curly locks matted to his head. Eyes rimmed red after nights of forcing himself to throw up, steadily nauseous when he was awake. Now he could understand Michelle’s concerned look and Ned’s teary expression during Decathlon. He understood why Steve asked him if he was okay, brow furrowed at Peter’s prominent collarbones.

  
And for the second time that day he realized just how self-destructive he’d become. For the second time that day, he broke down in harsh sobs which startled the men in the room. He picked up Bruce transferring his call with Doctor Cho to his personal cellphone, Mister Stark rushing over to sit beside him and pulling him into a tight hug. Peter cried into his mentor’s arms for what seemed like forever when the door clicked shut. They were alone now, Bruce carrying his conversation down the long hallway until his voice and footsteps faded away.

“I’m sorry Mister Stark.” Peter cried and willed himself to take a deep breath, hands smoothed over his curls.

”It’s okay Peter.” No nicknames, just Peter and Tony. “We’ll help you. We’re here.”

He knew better than to think it was simple reassurances, Mister Stark never did simple and even when he offered to make Peter a single peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he smiled.

”Cut down the middle?” Peter asked.

”You _heathen_.”

Even as Tony got up to leave, Peter tugged on his sleeve and for a moment it was just quiet. His eyes still watered but he smiled and let go of the sleeve.

”Thank you, Tony.”

The older man just smiled and nodded, turning to leave out the lab doors. Peter sighed and moved to the couch in the corner of the lab, IV right behind him. He settled into it with a sigh, an aching feeling washing over his joints. The teen could’ve slept right then and there if he hadn’t heard conversation outside the doors. Straining his ears, he smiled when he heard a rich, soothing voice talking to FRIDAY.

Peter grabbed the IV and maneuvered around the lab, pressing his hand against a scanner to be let out. Only Tony, Bruce and him had access to these labs, with the exception of Pepper and Rhodey. The scanner lit up blue and the doors opened swiftly killing the conversation between Bucky, Natasha and Wanda.

Wanda jumped slightly at the sudden movement in the corner of her eye but her face lit up at the sight of Peter, pulling him into a hug before the others could scold her. He smiled into her hug and returned it, only pulling away to hug Natasha who’s worried frown turned upside down.

She hugged him tightly and greeted him quietly, calling him little spider in Russian before she pulled away with masked emotions. He still grinned giddily and turned to Bucky who stood awkwardly, pulling him into a side hug.

He didn’t know why but it felt reassuring when Bucky got over his shock and returned the hug. Natasha was the one who cleared their throat and spoke first.

”He’s been bitching about a certain Spider-Kid because they haven’t been around lately.” Natasha said and ignored the glare she received from Bucky, “He was ready to drive up and down Queens looking for you. Steve took away his keys though.”

Bucky’s gaze sharpened. “Could you blame me? You were going to do it also.”

Wanda placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The point is Peter, we’ve been worried greatly. Everybody has been really, but you’re here now, so that’s what matters.”

Natasha added on, “You have us wrapped around your finger, ребенок паук.” Her smile made it easier to breathe and he nodded. Bucky took over, slapping his human hand onto Peter’s shoulder with a devilish grin.

”Now let’s prank them, something traditional.”   
  


And if Clint, Sam and Steve were doused in itching powder while they slept, one of Tony’s suits dancing to the beat of Single Ladies by Beyoncé in the middle of Times Square, and for good measure, all of Clint’s socks not having a pair anymore because they were burned, only Peter, Natasha, Wanda and Bucky would know.

  
Yeah, things would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like a lot of you might have confused bruce’s lab with the medbay, but they’re in his lab. he has things like iv’s, scales, medical things basically because the other avengers don’t wanna bother with the stiff nurses in the medbay for things that aren’t too serious like small scrapes or dehydration. 
> 
> it’s never accurate but that’s okay because it’s my book so
> 
> also have you guys realized i dont know how to end my chapters


	7. my therapist would be so disappointed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s heart raced and he attempted to rip his wrists from the man’s—Jeremy—grasp but he was frozen. The older man chuckled and traced Peter’s jawline with his dirty fingernail.
> 
> “Too precious aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW TAGS— ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT, MARIA HILL, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS 
> 
> TW- attempted sexual assault, graphic violence

Peter watched the brown liquid swirl around in his glass, an expensive ring on his middle finger. Wanda sat beside him with a glass in her left hand, but it held actual scotch while his was apple juice. She had smirked at him when he ordered it but they’ve only had quiet conversation since. Steve, Natasha and Director Fury were listening intently from somewhere, a secret SHIELD location most likely. Bucky stood conversing with a wealthy businessman, his left hand shoved deep in his pocket, his hair falling onto his shoulders softly. He looked uninterested and his expression was slightly pinched, but he laughed appropriately.

Wanda threw her head back as she finished her drink. Her red lipstick stained the rim of the glass and she drummed her fingers against the bar. She glanced lazily at him, curled hair falling across her face, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “How will it be until they get here? Sitting here like turkeys for a man with a gold tooth will make anyone anxious.” Wanda scoots her stool closer with difficulty, he laughs and flicks his cup.

”You’re the one wearing a watch.” Peter blinked repeatedly, the green contacts he wore irritated his eyes. His curly hair was overgrown and fell over his eyes, despite being gelled back. He ran his hands through them again. “Any luck you’ll actually be able to use the skills Nat taught us?”

Natasha had been teaching them hand to hand combat for the past few weeks, stressing the importance of it since using your powers in front of normal civilians would scare them and group you with the bad guys. Wanda had been upset about learning it and called her crazy, but Peter was eager to learn any skill the ex-assassin was willing to teach him. Long story short, tonight was the night they’ll be able to use the skills she taught them. It was a wide variety to say the least—

“_Focus, you can’t afford to make a mistake_.” Director Fury barked into their comms and they both straightened, Peter hastily sipping his drink as his face burned bright. Wanda slipped off her stool and patted then teen on his shoulder, heels clicking as she walked away to the crowd. He twisted the ring on his finger and bit his lip, spider-sense tingling at the nape of his neck.

_Bingo_.

Bucky took Wanda’s previous spot, ordering something fancy on ice, left hand still in his pocket. He tapped his pointer finger against the bar a certain amount of times and Peter nodded, downing the rest of his watered down apple juice and stood from his seat. The dress shoes Pepper had bought him for his sixteenth birthday clicked against the floor just as the double doors burst open. Flashes from the press illuminated the pathway for Norman Osborn, his son, and an expensive man named Jeremy Marks. He knew it was them the minute his sixth sense buzzed and he smiled lazily in their direction.

”_Remember what Nat taught you, get him to cough up any information about OsCorp. Buck, scan the crowd, try to separate Norman and Jeremy._” Steve repeated the plan from earlier, Peter was to dance with Wanda while Bucky separated the two wealthy men, then Wanda leave and would lead Jeremy on until she got the information they needed. Peter was just to sit there, look pretty, then leave with them.

Simple plan, hard to execute.

Norman separated himself from his son and Jeremy quickly, heading straight toward the bar. His enhanced ears picked up his need for a drink and he internally panicked. _That wasn’t apart of the plan_. One look at Bucky showed that he squints his eyes in panic for a moment then smiled brightly, offering Peter’s old seat to the man. He takes it with a smile and strikes up a simple conversation about the gala.

Peter sighs in relief and continues to make his way over to Wanda who meets him halfway. She takes his hand and twirls, her back ending up pressed against his chest—she smells like overpriced perfume, sprayed against her neck and left wrist. They sway together as best as they could, Peter forgetting what Natasha told him to do with his hands until Wanda settles them on her hips. The instrumental music playing over the speakers makes his heart skip a beat and his spider-sense intensify in the slightest. But he focused on the color of Wanda’s dress, garnet red mini with a slit on her right leg against his sacramento green button up matched with a pearl necklace, they fit together. Oddly enough.

Vision would probably stick him on a skewer and eat him for fun if he ever heard Peter say that out loud.

He spares a quick glance at Jeremy and Norman’s son and his heart skips a beat, Marks looking more anxious by the second. Wanda turns in his grasp and tears his gaze away, tapping a manicured nail against the pearl necklace he wore. A SHIELD agent handed it to him a few moments before they left the warehouse down the road, claiming it was a way to keep track of everything that went down other than just the comms. It buzzed against his neck and he gulped, looking down at his dress shoes.

”Osborn’s making his way back, I couldn’t keep him long.” Bucky’s voice travelled over their comms and true to his word, the man was making his way over to Marks with a cigar between his lips. “This is not going to plan, great.”

Wanda grumbled something unintelligible under her breath and flicked her curled hair over her shoulder. Director Fury piped up, “_Wanda can you step in? Do not lose your cool, we absolutely can’t afford that._”

”You telling me not to lose my cool is going to make me lose it!” She snapped and her eyes flashed red, Peter quickly squeezing her hand. She inhaled deeply and rolled her shoulders, scanning the area. Bucky was no longer at the bar, Osborn and Marks made their way across the room to a few tables, the son trailing behind slowly. “I have to try before they reach that table though.”

Peter twirled her once more and she was off, swaying her hips like Natasha told her to. He unbuttoned his shirt two and ran a thumb over his bottom lip, trying to recall what he does now. A waiter offers him a drink and he takes it with a lazy smile, spinning on his heel and back over to the bar to order some food. Might as well eat something since everything was being paid for. He leaned against an open spot at the bar and ordered something random off the few selections there were.

He feels somebody on his right and he spares a glance, surprised to see Jeremy Marks beside him. His heart jumps to his throat when he hears Bucky curse at the sight, but he continues to eat the food he ordered. It was gross, unseasoned with lemon slices, but he ate it like a starved child. Peter heard the man chuckle beside him and flushed.

”Sure are hungry, huh?” Jeremy joked, the bartender sliding a glass of alcohol to him. He took a long, relaxing sip and his shoulders dropped. He smirked, “Nothing else like it. Want some?”

”No thank you.” Peter replied.

”Not talkative?” Jeremy questioned and slid his stool closer. Peter’s spider-sense _screamed_ but he swallowed nervously. His twisted the ring on his finger, blinking and allowing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

”I apologize it’s just—“ He made a quick decision, “Your work at OsCorp alone is absolutely remarkable, I-I’ve never seen anything like it really.”

Peter continued his ramble and exaggerated his hand gestures, practically feeling Director Fury steaming with, well, fury. Because this wasn’t the plan, but the plan didn’t make sense from the beginning. So he rambled on and off about random things that Marks has contributed to at OsCorp, even if it made his skin crawl. He smiled shyly and averted his eyes back to his plate.

”You’re quite a genius for,” The man pauses, “someone like you, what’s your name?” Jeremy sips his drink.   
  


His skin continues to crawl.

”Damian Lancaster, pleased to meet you.” Peter supplies cooly. He sticks out a hand for the man to shake, flashing a toothy-grin. Jeremy shakes his hand and his eyes look up and down before settling on Peter’s lips.

”_Parker, get the questions going!_” Steve barks into his ear.   
  


”S-So what will you do next? What are your plans going forward as a company, and how soon will action take place?” Peter manages as his spider-sense spikes again, but softer. He glances around at the crowd behind him.

”Well we’re taking a step further by creating something the _Avengers_—” Jeremy spits out the name like poison. “are too scared to. Falcon has wings like a bird, but they’re not real. People have attempted to recreate the super soldier serum and end up with the Hulk. Why not go a step further, enhance the abilities a bit further?

”OsCorp has always found it fascinating, mutating genes and what not. Enhanced individuals, Deadpool to Spider-Man, there should be more of them. So instead of metal wings or metal suits, their skin would be their armor. Their wings would be real, work better, simply because they have it at their use whenever. Do you get what I’m saying?” Jeremy’s smirk remained on his face as he scratched his chin, a glimmer in his eyes as he spoke.

Peter swallowed but his mouth felt like sandpaper rubbing together. He was pretty sure he was sweating but he smiles brightly anyway, “It sounds fascinating. Do you have anything... else in mind?”

Whatever Jeremy was about to say was cut off by multiple gasps of shock, the crowd’s murmurs growing in volume as the double doors were held open by none other than Happy Hogan and another security guard, allowing _the_ Tony Stark to stroll in with his million dollar paparazzi smile. Jeremy openly scowled and clenched his fists, pure rage battling disgust on his face. Disgust won out and Peter couldn’t blame him, he felt quite sick to his stomach too.

Because Tony was ordered to not show up. Director Fury hadn’t even told the billionaire that Peter was on this mission, under the impression that Stark would ruin it the minute within his arrival. But he’d shown up anyway, maybe to steal the attention away from Norman Osborn because they absolutely hated each other’s guts, or he’d figured out the mission. Either way Tony was swarmed with questions before he even took twenty steps and only Peter caught his soft sigh before he smiled brightly, answering questions left and right only someone like him would know how to.

Peter turned back toward the bar with bile rising in his throat. He swallowed the bile and nervous expression quickly, but Jeremy was quicker. The older man frowned and wrapped his left arm on Peter’s shoulders, causing the boy to quickly sit on his hands to force himself not to lash out. It’d draw unwanted attention, specifically Tony’s attention, which was meant to be avoided. His spider-sense was screeching, head pounding, tremors traveling down his spine.

”I ordered you a drink, you don’t look too well.” Jeremy said, gripping Peter’s arm to hand him the fizzing drink. Fizzing. _Fizzing!_ It sent another sharp pain down his spine and he involuntarily knocked it out the man’s hand.

But it was only his imagination, the cool glass met his lips instead of the floor. He took a sip. It didn’t taste like anything.

The drink was set down on the bar again. Jeremy stood and surveyed the crowd for a few moments, allowing Peter to look around also. He caught Bucky making a beeline toward Wanda where she stood shaking in rage, glaring at Stark with a paralyzing fear. It was when he went to stand did he realize something was wrong, he remained in his seat.

At once his muscles felt bunched together, stiff, and all other pain just dissolved. His mind felt blurry and he tried to call out to his teammates, hell even Director Fury or even Tony, but all he managed was a mumble.

”What was that?” Jeremy had a smirk on his face, watching with a gripping hand. On Peter’s shoulder. Right. He swallowed the bile in his throat and tried again.

”I need... I need—“ He never finished his sentence, instead opting to sloppily scramble out of his seat and bumping into a waiter. The tray full of champagne they held clattered to the floor, sound exploding in his enhanced ears. He grunted and continued on, stepping on the broken glass, forgetting about Tony and Bucky and Wanda.

Peter eventually made his way into the bathroom, even after knocking a wealthy woman to the floor in his scramble. She had cursed at him and threw her alcohol at his face, eyes stinging, and she spat on his shoes. He continued on his way, not after murmuring _‘you filthy expensive bitch’_ underneath his breath. Noise erupted in his ear again.

”_Parker, Maximoff, you two need to get out of there. We’ve got the information we need_,” Natasha was probably lying about that last part of course, “_Stark blew this mission. Get out safely and efficiently._”

Peter breathed heavily into the sink, spit dribbling into the porcelain and his hands weakly gripping it, sweat dotting his hairline. He spit again and attempted to answer Natasha when the bathroom door slammed shut. It locked. Peter turned to look at who entered but instead his was gripped tightly in someone’s fist, forcing his head down one, two, three times. His mouth clicked shut each time his chin made contact with the edge of the sink, his teeth chipping at the force and he let out a loud shout of pain when the skin split open, then blood had poured out the wound. His hair was released and he was dropped to the floor, head creating a sickening crack against the tile.

His shirt was tugged on and he was dangling, coughing weakly. His vision swam as he fought to touch the ground, his back making contact with the stall beside the sink. In front of him stood Jeremy Marks, who looked oddly content. Peter coughed on blood in his mouth and clawed at the man’s hands.

”Did you think you could get away from me?” Jeremy laughed and Peter’s feet touched the ground again. He gasped for air, the metal taste in his mouth made him gag, even harder when Marks ripped open his button up. He’d accidentally ripped off the pearl necklace, tiny pearls clattering against the tiles and some rolled out the door. A fingernail scratched his skin and traveled from Peter’s collarbones to his pants.

Shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders he attempted to fight back, hitting Jeremy in his jaw. The man growled and slammed Peter’s head back into the stall, another shout of pain echoing in the walls of the bathroom. _Damn you Fury for putting me on the mission!_ Peter screamed in his mind though he didn’t actually blame the man, he actually thanked him for thinking he was good enough to go on this mission. But right now he was scared out of his mind.

“Mister Marks, please.” Peter whimpered pathetically as Jeremy gripped his wrists tightly above their heads, the wealthy man looking at the teenager as if he were prey. A juvenile gazelle being stared at by a scary ass looking cheetah just like he saw in a class back in eighth grade. Peter’s heart raced and he attempted to rip his wrists from the man’s—Jeremy—grasp but he was frozen. The older man chuckled and traced Peter’s jawline with his dirty fingernail.

“Too precious aren’t you?” Then Jeremy was unbuckling his pants.

Peter sobbed loudly at that and tried to call out, but Marks stuck three fingers into his mouth. He nearly gagged on them as they pressed down on his tongue and Jeremy’s thumb wiggled it’s way into the split in Peter’s chin.

He screamed and bit down on the three fingers, Jeremy yelping in anger. His belt was off, falling to the ground like the pearl necklace. _Where are you Wanda? Bucky? Tony?_ He sobbed loudly even with the fingers in his mouth, drool and blood dripping onto his chest, staining his skin.

In that moment Peter felt like he was nine again, calling out to Uncle Ben to help him because Skip was being mean. He didn’t wanna play anymore. But this was different because Uncle Ben was dead, Peter turned seventeen in a few months and Jeremy Marks was sexually assaulting him. It wasn’t a game.

So at that moment he screamed. He screamed “Tony!” Over and over until the door burst open, Tony standing in front of Bucky and Wanda, his makeshift gauntlet covering his right hand. There was horror in his expression when he looked at the tears and blood on Peter’s face, then rage like no other when he saw Jeremy Marks with his hand down Peter’s pants.

He didn’t remember falling but arms caught him, they were soft and firm and he sobbed. He sobbed for ignorance and his Uncle Ben back, blood soaking into Wanda’s garnet shade dress. She held him and his head was pressed to her chest, refusing to let him go, to see whatever Bucky and Tony were doing. Judging by their shouts of complete and utter rage, Tony’s gauntlet connecting with Jeremy Marks’ face more than once. He heard the pleas from the dirty scum on the bathroom tiles.

Peter was having trouble figuring out if it were him or Jeremy.

Eventually he was being helped to his feet, his chin still bleeding profusely. His bottom lip wobbled and Tony stepped into view, so many emotions in his eyes. Peter felt Bucky wrap a jacket around his shoulders, and then a gentle tug, they were leaving the scene. But not the memories, never those.

Peter allowed the tears to stream down his face as Bucky guided them out a exit in a hidden corridor. The ended up out beside an ally where a SHIELD van was parked, Natasha, Clint, Director Fury, Steve and Maria Hill stood stiffly. Steve couldn’t hide his concern on his face, Clint coming in second, questions etched in their brows. Natasha looked close to green, her eyes betrayed her nonchalant expression, begging Please don’t let it be true, please not Peter. But the moment they made eye contact, her expression dropped and her bottom lip wobbled. They knew.

Steve’s breath hitched and Clint turned to his left, tears burning his eyes. Director Fury bowed his head and Maria Hill simply pulled the gun from its holster, stalking past them with murderous grace. Natasha for one, hunched over and threw up. Peter wanted to cry harder but he bit his lip and clutched the jacket tighter around him.

In an instant Tony stomped over to Director Fury and punched him square in the face. He shouted in pain and Bucky, Steve and Clint rushed over to pull the billionaire away. Peter’s shoulders drooped and he turned to Natasha who watched with blank eyes. He stepped into her sight and she turned her head, biting her lip.

”It’s not your fault.” Peter croaked and grabbed her hand. Whatever Jeremy slipped into his drink had faded from his system now, so when she tried to take her hand back he gripped it. Not like how Jeremy did though.

Natasha looked at him with questioning brows and her hair had been cut again, ending right above her sharp jawline. She looked young and older at the same time, clenching her jaw shut. A flinch ran down his spine when a gunshot echoed throughout the night but they decided not to address it.

”I suggested this mission to Fury, that you accompany Barnes and Maximoff.” The tears in her eyes never fell. “I put you up to this. I knew you wouldn’t decline because you wanted to prove yourself. This wasn’t supposed to happen to you. To any of you.”

That’s when Peter understood and then the tears streamed down his face. She bit her lip again, straightening her shoulders in the process. He wrapped his hands over hers and took a step closer, the wound in his chin slowly closing up and he inhaled. The oxygen felt dizzying, more so than the drink Marks had given him or Skip calling him Einstein. Peter looked into her blank eyes and saw much more than he would like, and he smiled bitterly.

”But it’s supposed to get easier after the first time, right?” Peter spoke through his tears, his throat betraying him and his words came out with _too_ much emotion. “Why’s it always so hard?” Natasha’s expression crumbled and she slammed him into a hug, holding him tightly and with so much care, possessiveness, love that he’d only daydreamed about when he were young. It reminded him of Aunt May and how she made him spaghetti and wrapped him in a tight hug, Uncle Ben kissing his forehead.

”This is so much progress going down the drain, my old therapist would be disappointed.” Peter joked and she huffed emotionally. She pulled away, wiping her eyes quickly as if she weren’t crying. He wiped his nose and sniffed, watching as Natasha slowly reached up to his ear. She paused, glanced, then continued when Peter nodded that it was okay.

When she pulled away, the only thing left in her gloved hand was his comms that linked him up with SHIELD, more so Natasha and Director Fury. His shoulders dropped again when she took out her own and crushed the two in the palm of her hand. They’d heard it, Steve, Maria Hill, Clint, Director Fury, Natasha, his childhood heroes heard it all. His pathetic pleas, Jeremy’s grunting phrases, his screams for Tony. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“We tried to get here quicker, before he ever followed you to that bathroom, before he slipped something into your drink. If we’d been faster—” Natasha tried to explain but he cut her off.

”I don’t blame any of you. You’re here now,” Peter sniffed. “Don’t go? Please.”

She smiled softly, “Wouldn’t dream of it kid,” then ushered him into the parked SHIELD van, closing the door before she slipped in quietly and soon after the rest of the team did, crowding into one another to give Peter room. He smiled sadly.

It never got easier. But he would manage. It was just Skip all over again. This time without Aunt May or Uncle Ben.

He missed the ignorance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW TAGS— ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT, MARIA HILL, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS 
> 
> jan 30, 2020 was a scary day because my school received threats (bombing and school shooting) and the lockdown was really scary so i might write something about it but like through peter’s eyes but in a later chapter duh
> 
> i wasn’t too sure if i should continue to post chapters like this because ? it’s already triggering in a way when i write them so idk why i write em y’know? but should i write like a part two continuing this? like the next course of action and what happens next?


	8. icarus falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter hums quietly and there’s nothing. He ponders what Michelle just said with a frown on his face, her arms crossed over her chest. They lay under the invisible stars and traffic continues to honk, screech and speed below them. Even when on top of the world there’s no way to cushion the fall. So he licks his lips and smiles at the sky.
> 
> “What a sad pair we are.” He says quietly.
> 
> A beat of silence, “A sad pair indeed.” Michelle responds, tired eyes finding the side of his face. “But I wouldn’t dare change it for the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i hope everyone had a good valentine’s day! comment some suggestions for the next chapter:)

A flash illuminated the side of Michelle’s face, highlighting her brow bone under the sunset. She turns with a look of surprise on her but she smiles softly at the sight of Peter holding a Polaroid camera in hand. His cheeks a flushed pink in the cold weather, his brown curls flopping in the wind under his grey beanie.

They rode through the city on a pair of yellow bikes, two baskets at their front that held an estimated fifteen sweet akito roses thanks to Pepper Potts. Peter’s white polaroid sat in his basket along with Michelle’s notebook and black, gel pen. Blinding lights transform into colorful streaks as they pedal faster and faster until they stand on the squeaky pedals, whooping loudly with their arms in the air. Of course these bikes weren’t mountain bikes and they couldn’t zip through the streets in thirty seconds, but it was worth it when Michelle’s hair danced in the wind, hiding her smile behind a shout of joy.

Peter settles back onto his seat and he feels content. The sun is settling quickly behind them and they turn right, side by side. A hot dog vendor was parked up ahead and they helped themselves to four of them, handing two of them off to a homeless man who thanked them endlessly. Peter’s cheeks feel warm when he makes eye contact with Michelle who sticks her tongue out in a teasing matter.

It gets quiet after that. They pedal all the way back to the place they rented those bikes and gather their belongings. Michelle holds the roses against her chest gently and takes Peter’s left hand, his other holding her notebook and the white Polaroid. Cars honk at one another on the road beside them and people brush and bump into them.   
  


“You almost fell earlier.” Michelle speaks after yet another beat of silence, sniffing her roses quickly. He furrows his brows.

”You noticed that?”

”Yeah, you ran over a rock. The bike wobbled and made a random noise after five pedals too.” She tucks her curls behind her ear. He hums and they keep it at that, walking aimlessly around the city.

In all honesty Peter isn’t too sure what the think of MJ. He knows that she’s beautiful and he gets this stupid, positively goofy smile on his face when thinking about her. He knows she has a two brothers and her mother died before any of them got to middle school. She sits with him and Ned at lunch, she’s usually disinterested when it comes to gossip, and English is her strong suit.

But he doesn’t know what she wants.

Peter tugs on her hand and leads her into a deserted alley beside a tall building, she stops short. He turns to face her and watches the different emotions embed themselves into her brow, Michelle glances at the dirty walls of the alley then back at him. She trusts Peter and hands him the small bouquet. The beanie he’s wearing is tugged over his head further, his sweatshirt’s hood officially casting a shadow over his face and he takes a step back.

Using his abilities he jumps as high as he can, feet sticking to the wall and he flips over onto the roof. Peter sticks his head out and watches Michelle smile to herself, her hands deep in her pockets. The boy watches for a moment longer before jumping down, rolling into a crouched position in front of her.

”That’s not something I’ll get used to anytime soon.” Michelle says, nodding her head at Peter. He gingerly wraps his right arm around her waist, her legs hooking around his abdomen, and he smiles at her.

Dirty Converse scuffle against the wall as he climbs, with her hiding in the crook of his neck. He helps her onto the roof cautiously before flipping over it himself, their belongings set near the middle of the roof.

”After you!” Peter jokes, bending his knees at an awkward angle and waves his hand around in front of them.

She stares back uninterested.

”O-Or we could go somewhere else-“

”It’s perfect.” Michelle cuts off his stammering and sits down with the grace of a ballerina, her long trench coat tucked under her bottom. He sits after her and his right ankle rests on his left, looking directly up at the polluted sky.

It’s simple.

”How have you been?” It’s Michelle that asks. Her eyes are squinted with genuine curiosity, half of her face hidden behind the curls locks blowing in the wind.

“I’m doing alright.” Peter feels his shoulders sag and his tense muscles relax eventually, comfortable silence following his statement. For the first time in months he feels genuinely content with the girl that he really likes sitting on his left. Aunt May trusts him completely again after the whole figuring out about Spider-Man ordeal, but they worked it out.

He nudges her shoulder with his elbow, “How about you MJ?”

Her smile drops only a little and she shrugs her shoulders. She’s not looking at him anymore, just at the moon barely shining through the city’s pollution. “I’m good.” Michelle says with a smile that’s a little more forced this time around.

Peter deflates a little at that, squinted brown eyes raking up and down the side of her face. Her jaw clenches a few times and she sighs heavily, turning to look at him.

”May I help you?” Michelle’s skin is clear, always has been. Microscopic bumps under her eyes that trail into sweet, smooth skin across her cheeks. Her eyebrows are brushed up and her lashes curl into her lid.

He smiles giddily at her and shakes his head. A toothy grin finds its way onto her face.

  
“Take a picture since you’re staring so damn much.” Michelle quips.

Peter holds up the polaroid picture, “Already did.”

She frowns slightly at the sight of herself and ignores what he said. The smile drops from his own face and he quietly nudges her.

He’s not expecting an answer truth be told, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip to keep his jaw from hitting the floor when she did, in fact, respond.

”How do you do it?” She asks.

Peter blanks at that. _What does that even mean? _Michelle’s looking at him as if he can carry the world a thousand miles and one more without breaking a sweat, but that can’t be it. Surely it can’t.   
  


He had wings made of wax and feathers that will melt, causing his downfall. He would drown in the blissful ignorance he chooses, ignoring Tony’s warnings about Avengers level threats, and his wings shall be dampened by the ocean as he drowns. Peter Parker was Icarus and looking at Michelle now, with such a look of raw vulnerability in her brown eye, makes him wonder how she truly sees him.

He’s flapping his wings at a steady rhythm. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve lost so... _much_,” Michelle says. “Yet you keep going. At this point I don’t think anything will stop you.”

Peter feels his heart stop and his wings stutter, his head bobbing underwater. “No matter how much you lose, how many insults are thrown your way you manage to walk with your chin to the sky. You manage to help the little guy when nobody wants to help you.” He hears her say and her voice so clear underwater.

He hears her scoff to herself when he comes back to reality, angry tears forming in her eyes and her jaw clenches. “I know it sounds stupid but it’s the one thing I hate and admire about you all the same. You’ve been through the unimaginable yet I get stuck in my head sometimes and I feel like I’m drowning.”

Peter sees her inhale and wipe away a tear with frustrated hands. He knows her anger is misguided and she’s not truly upset with him, she doesn’t really hate what she thinks about him. But he scoots closer anyway and rests his head on her shoulder, unusual tears dampening his beanie.

”I feel trapped.” Now she’s simply talking without thought, “Going home every night where my brothers expect the snarky sister they grew up knowing and the expectations my father pours down our backs, I just miss what it was before mom died and I know I cannot compare that to what you’ve gone through but-“

”Hey.” Peter takes his chance to interrupt her and watches her mouth click shut. “You’re allowed to feel MJ. You can feel trapped and sad and exhausted, but you can’t find comfort in that feeling. At one point you have to find a steady rhythm where things are going good, y’know?”

”Says you,” She snorts softly. “You hate being Peter Parker and find your escape in free falls and crime fighting. You can love Spider-Man because he’s everything you’re not huh?”

”Spider-Man is a hero.” Peter frowns and grabs her hand. “Can’t exactly think puny Penis Parker is comparable now can you.”

”There’s no difference though, that’s the thing. You save cats from trees and wipe the tears from a seven-year-old girl’s face in a spandex suit, that’s Peter Parker. Your strength, brains, quick quips? They’re apart of you.” Michelle exaggerates her words as she looks him in the eye. His frown deepened.

”Peter Parker isn’t admirable.”

”He is to me!” MJ snaps and breaks their embrace. A few moments she pants heavily before regaining composure. “Can’t you see that you matter? In more ways than one?”

”It’s not exactly easy MJ.” Peter sighs softly and he looks away. “Looking at myself in the mirror all I can see is what Flash murmurs to his friends in the hallways when he thinks I can’t hear him. I just wanna be seen! To prove him wrong! So every night I help the people even if it’s behind a mask and that’s the only time somebody appreciates me. It’s through Spider-Man.”

Michelle stares at him sadly. It’s quiet again. He’s Icarus and he’s not flapping his wings enough, head dangerously bobbing up and down the salty ocean as he drowns. His feathers are damp and the wax is hardened, there’s no escaping. But he can see Michelle falling and he can’t fly anymore to save her, save himself.

He never got the chance to greet the Sun through ignorance and recklessness because the sinking feeling in his chest was enough to weight him down for eternity. It was getting hard to breathe.

“But you still find the strength to do it. Every single day, I don’t know where you find it.” Michelle’s speaking again and her eyes are begging for a rope to help her out here in the depths of her honey brown sadness. 

So Peter gets another chance and he’s off, never flying too close to the ocean nor the sun for fear his wings will melt before he can catch Michelle. She’s scared and adrift and her hair tangles itself together but then his arms wrap around her and—

“The people I love encourage me every single day, especially on the days where I cannot convince myself and I’m drowning.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder. “They’ll catch you before you fall.”

”What if that’s everything I ever wanted?” Michelle whispers and it’s hidden in the howl of the wind.

Peter hums quietly and then there’s nothing. He ponders what Michelle just said with a frown on his face, her arms crossed over her chest. They lay under the invisible stars and traffic continues to honk, screech and speed below them. Even when on top of the world there’s no way to cushion the fall. So he licks his lips and smiles at the sky.

“What a sad pair we are.” He sighs.

A beat of silence. “A sad pair indeed.” Michelle responds, tired eyes finding the side of his face. “But I wouldn’t dare change it for the world.”

He flew too high. The wax is melting and he begins to fall. Her words are blinding and set a flurry of butterflies flapping in his stomach. The fall is long.

Peter’s too busy staring at Michelle to really care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this shouldn’t have taken me that long to post my mental health really do be fluctuating tho
> 
> does this chapter even make sense? idek but next chapter i’m thinking about peter, clint and rhodey...? perhaps broken noses? impulsive decisions?


	9. a first time for everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not breathing. There’s no stuttering heartbeat, the smallest trail of blood trickles from his mouth, and his eyes are blank. Completely-fucking-blank.
> 
> Peter Parker killed a man.
> 
> He screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i completely forgot about this book im so sorry

One time, MJ had read aloud an excerpt from the book she was reading.

_”...And the most terrifying question of all may just be how much horror the human mind can stand and still maintain a wakeful, staring, unrelenting sanity.”_

Peter remembers it now, clear as day in this stupid, abandoned warehouse. It’s been thirty-eight hours since he’d been kidnapped in the alley literally beside his own apartment, and he’s thankful he’s still alive, but everyone has a breaking point.

His captor’s name was William. No last name, but he looks _normal. _Like he never kidnapped a teenager, hair slicked back with gel and the whitest smile to perfect his image.

William has a son named Matthew, who was seven and in the third grade. He’s incredibly smart for his age, a single crooked tooth that overlapped, and brown skin that brought out his smile.

And the only reason Peter even knows this is because William never _shut the fuck up._

Even when the thirty-two year old man brought a blade down Peter’s collarbone, he boasted about his life.

_”Did you know I graduated top of my class? Back in...”_

_”Matthew is going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, I can see it in his smile...”_

_”Don’t be scared!”_

Peter wasn’t, he was so angry his chest felt tight. His hands shook from the hunger, from the open wounds on his face and body, right down to the hot, burning anger eating away at his core.

William stands off to the side, cleaning off his scalpel on a towel. He’d just carved into his skin, _“Pretty like porcelain,” _he had said and proceeded to cut off skin in strips, almost as if he were cutting pieces from a cloth.

In the last three hours, William started a stupid _collection _of his favorite things. He’d plucked a tooth from Peter’s top row, snipped a particularly long curl at the nape of his neck, three fingernails, and of course, vials of blood.

His entire body ached, quite having the rudest of rude awakenings in history when his jackass captor beat him with a rusted pipe that cut open the skin on his ribs.

He’d definitely not Helen Cho, but he’s sure that _that _isn’t good at all.

”It’s pretty hot today, isn’t it? Matthew loves playing in the sprinklers on summer days like this,” William mutters as he glances at his scalpel.

Peter wheezes exasperated, he truly does not fucking care about Matthew. Shit, props to the kid, but his daddy is a psychopath. An annoying one at that.

Is this what he sounds like to criminals when he’s out as Spider-Man?

His mouth is full of blood that spills down his pale skin, and he wants to spit it at William, cause fuck that guy. Truly, excuse the language.

”Something you would like to tell the class,” William scowls.

”Is Matthew aware of the fact you kidnap lil’ ass teenagers?” Peter wheezes back.

William doesn’t deem that with a response other than a pinched expression, but he’ll take that over the mace to the face.

He grunts as he tugs on the standard handcuffs on his wrist, and they bust so easily he’s frozen in shock.

They clatter to the ground, and he goes rigid when William whips around. And he’s _pissed._

Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe the look on Williams’s face when he grabs a dagger, which actually has a pretty looking handle—

_Move motherfucka!_

Peter throws himself back in his chair, barely dodging the very precise swipe at his throat, in favor for falling to the floor and smacking his head so hard he sees stars.

He gasps for air and his back arches off the floor from the amount of pain his body is in, but then he’s being punched in the face so hard he nearly gives up right then and there.

Suddenly he’s back in Germany when Giant-Man knocked him out of the sky and he felt so disoriented he didn’t even recognize Iron Man.

Dagger forgotten on the floor, William begins to choke him.

Peter wants to scream in frustration, because he was so close to escaping without another scratch on him! But he’d been stupid, making a fucking noise when he could’ve easily knocked the jackass out!

His chest feels tighter, that burning sensation returning as tears fill his eyes. The blurry shape in front of his is yelling, specks of spit flying from his open mouth.

The anger comes back so suddenly he scrunches his eyes shut at the sharp ringing in his ears. It’s loud, excruciatingly so...

And he snaps.

In one swift motion, Peter manages to swing his right leg up onto William’s throat and flip their positions. The man gasps are pained, immediately clawing at any exposed skin and tearing open wounds that had just begun to close.

Everything’s shaded red in front of him.

One time, Tony asked him a question. It was out of the blue, middle of the night at the new Avengers Compound, the strain on their relationship higher than ever when Peter simply didn’t retaliate after a HYDRA goon stabbed him five times.

He’d asked, in the most defeated way, _“What happens one day when you can’t insist that you’re fine, Peter?”_

Peter, of course had been confused, so he simply stared. He couldn’t think of an answer.

Tony looked like the definition of exhaustion, his shoulders sagged in defeat and his jaw slack.

_”There’ll be a day you won’t be able to walk away cracking jokes. You’ll have blood on your hands, hell, I’d hate to see it, but what does it take for you to crack?”_

And Peter had immediately shot that down with, _“I can’t afford to crack Mister Stark.”_

_”But you will. What happens next?”_

Peter never answered, because he knew that he truly couldn’t afford to lose his temper. He couldn’t let people like Flash or J. Jonah Jameson get to him. He couldn’t afford any of that.

It came at a great price to pay. If he’d retaliated when it came to Flash, he runs the risk of forgetting to pull his punch. If he reacted poorly to bad media, he’d run the risk of getting shit on even more.

He could kill someone in result of losing his temper, hell get himself killed.

But the last thirty-eight hours were enough to make him crack.

He’s ashamed to even say it.

William cut him open, filled his mind with brutal images of the death of his loved ones, threatened Aunt May, damn near killed him.

Peter didn’t come this far, to only _get _this far.

So he’s fighting back, punching his captor in the face. Hot tears mix with the blood on his face and he’s probably yelling, yelling so loud his voice cracks and his throat feels raw.

But he doesn’t stop until a sickening crack fills the air.

He freezes in the air as his senses slam back to him. The smell of iron is so strong, it reminds him of the pill bottles he filled with pennies when he was thirteen and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears.

Everything gets bright for a moment and he scrunches his eyes shut, his hand still clenched in a shaking fist. He wrenches his eyes open.

His heart starts beating faster. He brings his fingers to William’s neck.

No pulse.

He’s not breathing. There’s no stuttering heartbeat, the smallest trail of blood trickles from his mouth, and his eyes are blank. Completely-fucking-blank.

Peter Parker killed a man.

He screams.

It echoes around the warehouse, he can hear the fear in his own voice, but he muffles it behind his bloody hands. It’s his own blood, but it doesn’t matter.

William is dead.

_But it... it was in self defense!_

Peter’s still on top of the still body and he scrambles back, falling on his ass as his cries of anguish slipped through his bloody fingers.

His body aches, hunched over like this, but he cries for what feels like hours.

Sure, William wasn’t innocent, but he had a child at home. Matthew, who was seven and incredibly smart at his age and loved playing in the sprinklers on a hot summer day like this—

Peter turns to the side, and pukes.

There’s barely anything that comes up except blood, and he falls face first into it as his body runs out of energy.

He’s exhausted, and he cries into his own pile of vomit-blood as he stares at the man he murdered. Time seems to slow after that.

Not even forty-five minutes pass when he hears that stupid familiar sound from the suits, specifically Iron Man’s and War Machine’s, and his eyes fill with tears again.

He doesn’t move, his body aches and he’s barely conscious, but they’ll see the body and they’ll _hate _him.

A warehouse wall behind him gets blasted, crumbling to the ground as those heavy metal boots clank against the ground. He can hear it from his spot.

_”Peter!”_

** _—_ **

“Your wounds will heal just fine Pete,” Doctor Banner reassures him. He doesn’t reply, continues to stare at the wall as his mind repeats the horror of that afternoon.

He’d killed a man.

Spider-Man killed someone.

Peter has to bite his lip from crying out, his hands scrubbed clean but he swears there’s still blood on them. Like Uncle Ben’s, William’s.

Doctor Banner continues to talk, and he can’t find the energy to listen. He wants to fade away, rot in a prison cell like the murderer he is, and he’s so scared.

William was probably scared, in those final seconds, right before Peter punched him so hard his skull shattered, and he probably begged for Matthew.

He killed a man. A father. He killed someone’s father.

Sobs are hard to contain. So he cries into his bandaged hands, remembers the horrified realization on Rhodey’s face when he heard FRIDAY tell them William was dead. He hears shuffling, a gentle hand rests upon his bare shoulder, and he flinches regardless.

He doesn’t turn, the blurry wall the only thing he can face.

”Kid, it’s okay,” Tony murmurs softly.

“It’s not fucking okay!” Peter cries out, hands balled into fists. He curls in on himself, “I killed someone!”

”He was going to kill _you._”

”William had a boy. Matthew—“

”William had a criminal record, including homicide, he’d kidnapped and killed three other teenagers before,” Tony cuts him off.

“It doesn’t excuse what I did,” Peter sobs, “I still killed him!”

”I’m not saying that kiddo,” Tony pulls him into a hug that he immediately collapses into, “What I’m saying is that none of us can blame you. He was going to kill you, and you defended yourself.”

Peter didn’t want to listen, but he melted into Tony’s embrace. He didn’t want to believe those soft reassurances, so he doesn’t.

For now, he’ll mourn a man who tortured him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i completely forgot about this and i deeply apologize
> 
> this was so bad? i wrote it in like two hours because i never get inspiration like this anymore so i have to like hold it hostage while i can


	10. fluffy blankets to cure the aches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”It’ll all be okay Pete,” Sam hums, “But hey, that offer still stands. The setting-Brad-on-fire. Just don’t tell Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is extremely short but i tried... attempted... fluff?? i think but if it were any longer it wouldn’t be good.

As soon as Peter steps foot into the Avengers Compound, he makes a beeline straight for his room beside Vision’s. He can feel Natasha’s lingering gaze as he goes.

He’s aching all over from the previous day’s patrol, getting thrown by some guy with an _awesome _suit straight into an apartment building, blowing through four and a half walls. His head hurts, and he really just wants to cuddle, so he grabs the biggest and fuzziest blanket he’s got in his room and wraps it around himself like a cape.

Natasha and Thor are on the couch in the main area, Sam in the kitchen jumping back from hot oil. Peter grunts slightly and quite literally sprawls out on their laps, his legs in Thor’s and his head on Nat’s.

”Oh.” Is all she says in reply. She immediately starts to run her fingers through his hair.

Thor absentmindedly traces shapes on his legs and it’s almost as if they’re putting him under a spell, which is silly. That’s Loki’s thing.

Peter hums a little, wrapping his arms around his stomach, and his eyes begin to close when he hears Sam snicker.

”He’s like a kitten.”

”Cat-Man,” Natasha snickers back.

He grumbles, nose scrunching a little. He pushes himself off Nat and snuggles into Thor a bit more. The God gives a triumphant hum in response.

Natasha sarcastically places a hand over her heart, “Oh whatever shall I do now?!”

Peter sticks his tongue out childishly as he adjusts the blanket to cover him and Thor. He stops for a moment, folding it over Thor’s lap for a moment, then he gets up to drag Nat across the couch.

She snorts loudly and settles in beside him. Sam retreats back to the kitchen with bellowing laughter, holding a hand to his stomach.

”You’re really warm,” Peter sighs, his cheek smooshed into Natasha’s shoulder.

”Am I now? I think that’s just Thor because he’s sweaty,” She snickers.

Thor simply rolls his eyes. He wraps his arm around the two, and Peter melts into a puddle.

”What’s the prob, dog?” Natasha sings jokingly, her finger curled into his hair.

”There’s this new kid,” Peter grumbles, “He was being a dick.”

“Gossip?” Sam nearly sprints into the living room, wooden spoon still in hand. His eyebrows are high as he points at them, “Are we talking shit?”

”No,” Nat rolls her eyes.

”Yes!” Peter and Thor say at the same time. They high five each other as Natasha rolls her eyes harder.

”Who’s this new kid? Should we kick his ass?” Sam beats his fists onto his knees.

”His name is Brad,” Peter scrunched his nose in distaste, “He was like giving me dirty looks all day and it was annoying. Plus he keeps making heart eyes at MJ.”

Thor frowns, “How shall you deal with him?”

”Set him on fire!” Sam suggests.

”That’s _murder_,” Peter looks horrified.

“I think it’s justified,” Thor jokes. Nat pokes his cheek to which he frowns at.

”Are you secretly Loki?”

Thor huffs, “No. Maybe just show him up or something. Or ignore him. Or have your murder girlfriend deal with it.”

”MJ said to just ignore it, and I’ve been trying. But he’s such a dick!” Peter screams into Natasha’s shoulder and they all laugh at his distress.

He pouts, snuggling into the two Avengers a bit more. Sam rolls his eyes, ruffling the kids hair with a fond look.

”It’ll all be okay Pete,” Sam hums, “But hey, that offer still stands. The setting-Brad-on-fire. Just don’t tell Stark.”

Peter laughs, his eyes drooping closed as Thor adjusts the blanket a bit more. He ends of falling asleep, soft snores escaping his open mouth and Natasha nearly melts at how cute he looks.

The elevator dings and the majority of the team bumbles inside the common room, and Bucky blinks at the sight before him. “Oh.”

”FRI said Pete was in distress,” Steve says. He walks over, running a finger across the boy’s cheekbone with a fond look.

Thor slaps his hand protectively and Steve hides his manly yelp. Tony is still fidgeting by the door of the cuteness overload, and Pepper is taking photos on her personal phone.

”Building, take a picture and send it to the groupchat,” Bucky states. He sits down beside Natasha quietly.

”New kid at school bothering Pete,” Thor supplies Steve with information.

”Do we need to talk to the principal?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

”Nah, he’ll handle it.” Thor dismisses.

”No he won’t,” Tony squints.

”Maybe, but he does what he wants,” Thor shrugs and Peter stirs a little but doesn’t wake.

”I can talk to—“

Natasha chucks one of Bruce’s books straight at Tony’s thigh to which he shouts in surprise. Sam and Bucky dissolve into laughter.

They all fall into comfortable silence until Nat speaks up, “FRI can you hack into Midtown Tech’s files? Find a new student?”

”Mama Bear!” Sam calls out.

”Mama _Spider._” Peter mumbles sleepily, and she kisses his forehead because it’s true.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments and kudos!


	11. sorry boys, gotta scram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “W-Wait! Don’t do this —“ Peter begins to beg, his lungs screaming for oxygen and his fingers lost all circulation, but his head is ducked back underwater mid-scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: talks of human trafficking, branding, torture.
> 
> i added and deleted a shit ton of new tags so look at them and read at your own risk

“Wakey... Wakey — Rise n’ Shine!”

Freezing cold water rushes over him and Peter startles awake with a gasp, eyes blurry and he lets out a shout.

He coughs harshly, his wrists tied tightly behind his back. There’s a man standing over him, a sinister smile on his face, and he’s holding a bucket.

Ice surrounds him, begins to melt in his lap and the man leans closer. His eyes glance around until he stands so abruptly Peter flinches.

”Good. You’re awake,” The man hums, “We have a long night ahead of us, Mister Parker.”

Peter pants, “Why am I here?”

The man whips around, his fist connecting with the edge of Peter’s mouth so fast it leaves stars in his vision. Something cracks at the same time.

He gasps, blinking away the pain as the man pops a knuckle.

”There are rules, one of them is no speaking. No screaming. You’re to comply,” The man says, “My names is Sir, and you will refer to me as such.”

”Dunno, you look more like a Fred —“ The next punch comes lightning fast, knocking the wind from him.

Sir hums slightly, “You asked a question earlier. Why are you here? The answer is simple. To send a message.”

Sir picks up a needle, smiling down at it and he turns to Peter.

”To show the Avengers that they cannot save everyone.”

Then the needle is plunged into his neck, and a wave of distress washes over him. It’s so painful he nearly blacks out, a constant whisper telling him _Get out! You’re not safe! _so loud in his mind.

“Rest some more, it’s the calm before the storm.”

Sir steps back some with a smile. The needle is dropped and it shattered on impact, but Peter’s out like a light before it happens.

**—**

Banging sounds from above him and he groans, scrunches his nose as he works up the energy to lift his head. The world is tipping off its axis.

Peter swallows a nauseous burp, his jaw clenches involuntarily. A blurry figure stands before him with an object in hand, tapping it against the legs of the wooden chair he’s tied to.

Someone else grabs his chin, pushing open his mouth and forcing a cloth in between his teeth. He coughs weakly into it.

Another man kneels down in front of him, his sadistic eyes seem to light up at the bruise.

“Nico. Refer to me as Nico.”

Sir snaps his fingers twice, and like an obedient pet, Nico immediately rushes to his side with a smile on his face. He’s nearly vibrating with excitement.

”Parker, you seem to have quite the connection with the Avengers. They’re looking for you, I know it. So we shall get this show on the road,” Sir says. He messes with something until a loud, shrill alarm goes off within the cell.

Peter yelps into the cloth, his face scrunches up as the pounding in his head increased. Everything goes blank, his vision white, and the ringing doesn’t stop. He’s not sure if he’s yelling or not.

By the time his vision clears he becomes aware of the new pain blossoming all over his face and abdomen. Nico is in front of him, teary-eyed and scissors in his hands.

”It’s okay, it always hurts at first. Sir is just showing you the way — It’ll be okay,” Nico says as he snips away at Peter’s clothes.

”This is necessary in your transition. You will be made one of us — We all have them.”

Just to prove his sick, twisted point, Nico lifts his shirt past his ribcage to show off three large markings. A large _S _with some odd design, devil horns maybe, are burned into Nico’s skin. Like he was property.

Suddenly, the nausea returns full force and hot tears automatically begin to fall.

Oh _gosh, _this has got to be some nightmare he can’t wake up from.

Nico shushes him gently, “It’s alright, you’re worth a pretty penny. Sir shall prepare you.”

”It’s necessary as a mutant — we must realize that we are lesser than Sir,” A new voice comes from the shadows. A girl with dark hair and cracked lips has teary eyes.

Peter begins to sob into his gag, his shirt in pieces on the floor. His pants are in the same situation and he’s left in just his boxers.

Goosebumps trail up his arms, the rope that tied his hands together is so tight his arms are turning purple from the lack of blood circulation, and he’s writhing in his chair.

Sir is heating up a branding iron on the far right side of the room, humming a pop radio song and Nico is hushing softly.

He wants to leave, he wants to go _home._

He wants Tony, May, MJ, Nat, anyone to bust him out of there now.

Sir is making his way over quickly with the branding iron and Nico grabs his bucking hips, forcing him to stay still.

As soon as the branding iron makes contact with his skin, he’s screaming. He doesn’t pass out, doesn’t black out, just scrunches his eyes shut and screams so loud even Nico flinches back.

It comes back to mess with him, his own screams leave his ears ringing as Sir mutilates his body. Snot runs from his nose and his toes curl from the pain.

His lungs are constricted and he’s gasping between his screams, his chest so unbearably hot he thinks he’s going to die.

He is. He’s going to die.

”Shh shh, you’re alright — you look even prettier,” Nico smiles. He removes the gag.

Suddenly he’s wrenched from his chair, his knees slamming into the concrete floor and he’s being dragged out the room. Nico is left behind in there.

Peter’s still sobbing when they enter a new room, Sir dropping him to the floor as the door shuts. It becomes pitch black in there as soon as the door beeps.

No lights appear anywhere in the room. Sir bumbles about in the darkness. He curls into a ball on the floor, his senses all out of wack, and he’s sobbing so much he can barely manage to inhale throughout.

Hands grab all over his bounded arms and force him up, and he wonders distantly how they can see in the dark. He remembers the girl’s words — _us mutants — _and it clicks then.

He brings his knees up to his chest for a moment until someone forces them down, straightening his back out by prodding at the boy’s chest.

Peter screams, and his head is dunked into water. He immediately begins to thrash, his lungs burn and bubbles float back into his face. His eyes are wide open in the dark water.

They’re going to kill him. He’s not even seventeen yet, hasn’t even graduated high school.

He’s going to die by the hands of his captor, but maybe it’s a mercy. They were planning on selling him, weren’t they? He’d rather die then be sold into sex work or labor.

Just as he stops thrashing, inhaling the water he’s in, he’s pulled up for air. He immediately starts coughing, heaving up the water and tears are burning his eyes.

His hair is plastered against his forehead and he coughs violently.

”You will need to get used to these punishments, Mister Parker,” Sir grunts, “You know the rules. No screaming —“

Peter’s head is pushed back under just as he catches his breath.

He chokes on the water as it rushes into his mouth. He’s pulled back up.

”— You are to comply —“

“W-Wait! Don’t do this —“ Peter begins to beg, his lungs screaming for oxygen and his fingers lost all circulation, but his head is ducked back underwater mid-scream.

He begins to thrash violently, curling his tingling fingers. Fingers dig into his shoulder blades and he’s forced under a bit more.

Everything blurs together at that point, until Sir has the audacity to press a false reassuring kiss to his forehead and smile proudly as if he were a brand new trophy.

Maybe he was, but he certainly doesn’t feel like it. He’s growing weak, even as the drugs are not in his system anymore, he hasn’t eaten since before he got here, and Sir beats him black and blue until he’s numb.

_”Your buyer will thank me, he loves the look of bruises on his objects. He gets off on it, really.”_

Then they throw him back into the room with the branding iron — Nico is gone — and he’s left alone. No one comes in, no one goes out.

Peter curls in on himself as best he can, his head pounding harshly. The room is dimly lit by whatever the hell Sir was using to heat up the branding iron, sending awful waves of heat throughout the room.

He’s sweating profoundly as the temperature in the room increases and he feels like he’s being roasted alive.

It leaves him with vertigo and any movement makes him dizzy. He feels like puking his guts up and sobbing at the same time, begging his captor to let him go.

But he’s _Spider-Man._

Gradually his thoughts become a little more coherent, the drugs officially leaving his system. He desperately needs to come up with a plan to escape, then a plan to come back as Spider-Man to save the people being sold.

_Wait a damn minute... the branding iron..._

Peter whips around so fast he has to clench his jaw shut to stop himself from puking all over himself.

Once his vision clears a little, he sees it. The branding iron is hot, a bright orange that hurts his eyes but it fills him with hope.

He drags himself across the floor, aggravates his wounds and the burns until they bleed, and he has to pause a number of times to scrunch his eyes shut during a spell of nausea.

The heat emitted from the machine, whatever it’s called, is nearly unbearable as he inches closer. His vision begins to warp a little but he makes it close enough where he can knock the branding iron down.

His arms are cold, and he’s scared of possibly having to have his fingers amputated or some shit.

He grunts as he kicks wildly, barely scraping the edge of it. He repeats his actions, jaw clenched tightly.

When he escapes, he’s going to go home and hug Aunt May. Apologize to Mister Stark. Take MJ on that date just like he promised. Watch Star Wars with Ned again. Maybe he’ll hug Nat, if she doesn’t stab him from surprise.

The branding iron clatters to the floor and Peter adjusts his arms, the rope cutting into his skin quickly lights on fire. It deteriorates almost instantly, embers left in its place on his skin.

He almost shouts with relief as the blood flow immediately starts again. He clumsily pushes himself to stand, wobbling on his unsteady legs. He glances around wearily.

Since the drugs wore off he can hear through the walls. Sir is conversing with someone a floor below him, discussing prices and pick up dates.

A wave of adrenaline washes over him and he looks at the door, his plan hazy in his mind.

Basically, _run. Run fast._

Peter bursts through the door with a strangled yell, his arm in front of him. The door flies off its hinges and knocks into someone — the girl from earlier — hard enough she doesn’t immediately get back up.

Nico turns in surprise and doesn’t waste a second, pulling out a device and pressing a button. They’re flushed into red lights and an alarm starts to blare loudly.

Peter can’t stay here, and he easily overpowers Nico and knocks him unconscious. He’s suddenly aware of the amount of people in this building as shoes scuff the floor. He can’t see a way out yet, other than one.

Sir appears behind him, “_You!_” and he starts to charge. Others pile into the hallway behind him, following his lead.

“Sorry boys, gotta scram!” Peter cries out and takes off, bursting straight through the window.

He falls for a few short moments and people all around him scream. He slams into a parked car, scaring an elderly couple, and he instantly starts to sob. He’s bloody, marked, his hair still wet from being waterboarded, but he pushes himself up anyways.

”_Stop that boy!_”

Peter cries out, glass in his foot but he starts to sprint down the streets of Manhattan. People fall out of the way and shout in surprise, but he can’t stop. He only looks behind him once to look at the distance between him and those sick bastards.

When he turns around, he looks for street signs. He looks crazy, he just know its, because there’s a bloody, naked sixteen year old boy running down the streets of Manhattan with people chasing him.

_Sullivan and Bleecker... Bleecker... Doctor Strange!_

He continues to sprint, ignores the way his chest aches and his body seems to protest, and he keeps sprinting until he sees the New York Sanctum.

Doctor Strange has worked with Tony briefly on missions regarding creatures from other dimension and what not, and they’ve all worked together at some point. While he wouldn’t say Doctor Strange is the warmest person out there, seemingly over protective of the necklace he wears and willing to leave them for dead if needed, he’s definitely the closest around and the most capable of helping at the moment.

He’s nearly heaving hot breaths as he comes closer to the Sanctum. A dart digs into his leg but he keeps running, fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

As soon as he hops up the steps he bangs on the doors until he collapses inside. He gasps in pain, his wounds aggravated again as he fell to the floor. Footsteps sound from around him and he pushes himself back up, to prepare himself for a fight.

It’s Doctor Strange... but without the Strange part. He’s got on jeans and a regular shirt, but the man who’s beside him is dressed in the robes he’s used to seeing.

”Peter?” Doctor Strange says. He kneels down besides him.

”I — I can’t.. Doctor Strange _please,_” Peter gasps, clutching his chest. The man glances at his wounds and his face becomes pinched, almost as if he can see just what happened before — which would be scary and freakishly cool — and he waves a hand at the man who followed.

“Tell me what happened kid,” Strange says as he picks Peter up, an arm looped under his knees and the other pressed against his back. The man — who’s name was Wong — opens a portal into a familiar place.

It’s the Avengers Compound, but it’s only the common room. From where they held half-assed meetings to fight inter dimensional beings, and it’s only because that’s the only place Doctor Strange has ever been.

They step through the portal, the Cloak of Levitation fluttering about worriedly nearby. As soon as the portal closes, FRIDAY’s voice interrupts the quiet.

”_Doctor Strange I must inform Boss —“_

”Where’s your medical floor?” He demands and automatically she replies and tells him to go to the elevator.

Peter’s eyes flutter for a moment as FRI alerts the Avengers and the on-call medical team of what’s happening. Doctor Strange tsks a little.

”Peter, tell me what happened.”

“I — I was kidnappe... Branding iron and... water — waterboarded,” Peter chokes a little bit. His eyes blow wide and he thrashes, hips bucking.

”Kid!” Strange yells just as the elevator doors open.

The medical team is standing about, and distantly so are the Avengers nervously waiting to catch a glimpse, and he freaks.

”No! No no! Get away!” Peter screams, “I can’t — Doctor Strange!”

A new face comes into the elevator, and it’s Tony and Natasha, but he just wants to be let go. Faces are warped in his mind and he feels delirious. They’re going to waterboard him again and he can’t breathe.

”Strange what the hell did you do to him!” Tony hounds the other man.

”He showed up at the Sanctum bloody and scared out his mind, he’d been tortured —“

”Please! I — I can’t.. They’re gonna sell me they’re gonna —“ Peter chokes on his sobs, his fingers curling into his matted hair. Tony pales considerably and Natasha moves forward.

She grabs his bicep softly, her eyes searching his. He stops thrashing out of fear of hurting her but he can’t stop his sobs, her eyes catching sight of the branding on his chest.

”We got you, Spider-Baby,” Natasha murmurs softly. Peter nods shakily and he scrunches his eyes shut, a medic rushing forward to sedate him.

He sobs as the needle pierces his skin, Natasha softly whispering to him as Tony angrily yells in the background, perhaps at nothing.

Peter looks at her and he wants to ask her if he’ll be okay, if the branding will go away, if he’s safe now.

She presses a kiss to his forehead just as he slips into unconsciousness, the last of his aches fading away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like did a small amount of research about branding irons and human trafficking like enough to get an idea but not enough to thoroughly explain it. leave comments and kudos!


	12. i must have made it through (thank you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Relax webhead, we got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some people were demanding fluff and a part two so i tried my best to deliver w spidermom
> 
> PART TWO!

Peter’s awake, and he has been for a few rough minutes, but he’s not sure if he wants to open his eyes. Realize that he had been dreaming his escape and he was still in that room with Nico and Sir.

He doesn’t want to realize that whatever happened — _is happening_ — wasn’t a dream. He’d been taken, abducted and a price tag was slapped on him, ready to be sold like a pack of gum.

It sends goosebumps up his arms and he whimpers painfully, his eyes choose that moment to flutter open. He squeezes them shut almost instantly, the bright lights overhead burns his retinas and he yelps.

He hears someone flick the switch but the light remains behind his lids. Someone’s speaking softly to him now with a hesitation only within their heart.

Deep down he knows it’s Natasha, but his mouth mumbles out, “May?”

She stops mid sentence with a snort, and he hears her hand press against her mouth. More so slap, because a loud pop sounds throughout the room.

”D’d you just slap yours’lf?” Peter mumbles sleepily, his hands still pressed against his face.

The IV sticking in the back of his hand tickles.

”Definitely did not,” Natasha protests softly, “How are you feeling, webhead?”

”Like crap,” Peter rasps, and finally looks at her.

She had sat down quietly in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed, her legs up on the bed rails and crossed at the ankles, and she’s got an eyebrow raised.

”Thought it-it’s a dream,” He whimpers into his hands, “This wasn’t real.”

Natasha hums, her eyes downcast. She looks almost... normal — she _is_ normal of course — with a simple tank top and jeans. Her hair is pulled back into a braid.

And she has sushi designs on her socks.

”Where’s the team?” Peter huffs, his attempts at pushing himself up are fruitless.

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” Natasha replies with a smirk.

”Never,” Peter scoffs at the thought. She’s the only other one with common sense — Rhodey being the other — and without them, the Avengers would’ve been long gone.

He makes himself queasy just thinking about it and she must take notice, cuz she gives him a purple plastic bin.

”Flattered that you’ve grown accustomed to my presence,” Natasha says.

“You give good cuddles.”

She laughs a little, her head turned to the side. She nods at whoever just entered the room, but Peter can’t see who it is, his head deep inside of the purple bin.

”Does this thing go on forever like a bottomless pit? Why’s it so big?” Peter calls out.

”It’s not too big, I think it’s a decent size for a trashcan,” Doctor Strange replies back, his voice drips with exasperation.

”Doctor Strange!” Peter squeaks, the bin long forgotten, “What’s up Doc?”

”Five bucks, gimme!” Natasha snickers, her palm flat out. Strange grumbles but pulls a five dollar bill from his pocket.

The man starts to explain the extent of the damage done to Peter’s body but the words fall on deaf ears — his eyes distant slightly. He’s half-heartedly watching Natasha shove the crinkled paper into her front pocket.

Peter watches the exchange with misty eyes, because whatever drugs that were being pumped into his system don’t seem to be doing the job anymore, and he also thinks it’s an honor to be able to witness this banter.

Reality starts to settle a bit.

He sniffles and closes his eyes, his cheek smooshed into the side of the purple bin she had given him. His chest aches distressingly with flares of pain.

It’s like fireworks are exploding within him, as if he’s an extra in Katy Perry’s music video for _Firework, _and it’s becoming unbearable the longer it gets worse.

He groans, his eyes clenched tightly, and his arm snakes across his chest. He wants Tony, or May, or MJ, but they’re not here. Natasha is, and she places a gentle hand on his back.

A wave of nausea washes over him and he swallows painfully — he absolutely _despises _throwing up — but he gasps and then he’s throwing up into the bin.

He feels the tears build up behind his lids and his stomach clenches dreadfully. He can’t help the sobs, as pathetic as they are, but he’s retching too much to form a coherent plea.

”You gotta calm down Peter —“ Doctor Strange begins to say, but he can’t. His chest hurts so bad and he can’t properly breathe, his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

Everything is warping behind his closed eyes — Natasha’s and Strange’s voices morph until he can’t recognize them as the heroes they are — and he starts to choke on water.

Peter starts to choke and his eyes snap open, flinching away from Nico’s arms and Sir is yelling, and he’s vaguely aware of his hazy mind telling him he’s in _danger! _

His jaw is clenched and he’s choking, nose burning. Nico is trying to force his mouth open again and he starts writhing, he does _not _want that branding iron touching him again.

Everything starts to burn and he’s listening to Sir demanding in the background — _“Peter breathe!” — _and his vision is growing dark again, he must be underwater again.

It’s the only explanation, it has to be. Everything was a dream.

Someone presses against his sternum and he feels faint until he’s being pushed forward, his mouth open and chunks start to fall from his mouth.

It’s disgusting to look at so he scrunches his eyes closed again. He feels the energy drain from him entirely and he nearly face plants into the vomit-filled bin until Nic — Natasha — holds him upright.

Whimpers escape him and he’s delirious, the Doctor explains that it’s his fever, he’s not too sure what is or isn’t real.

Doctor Strange looks like Sir, Nico looks like Natasha... or maybe it’s the other way around but he’s _scared._

Peter grits his teeth, “Don’t..”

He can’t even form a coherent sentence and his mouth feels like cotton, his back pressed against a chest.

There are voices urging him to do something, but they get distorted by the incessant ringing and the he’s closing his eyes.

Sleeping is a better alternative.

**—**

Next time Peter opens his eyes, the lights are off completely. He’s plunged in complete darkness and for a moment he panics.

But it’s silly, because he can _hear _and he’s at the Avengers Compound. He can hear Steve’s awful rendition of _Here Comes the Sun _and then Bucky’s mocking him terribly. There’s scattered noise — cutlery clinking against plates — and his quiet heart monitor off to the side.

Tony’s here, slumped over slightly and heavy snores escape his mouth. His tablet is balancing dangerously on his knee as it displays the latest StarkPhone.

He sighs and sinks back into the stiff hospital bed. He’s guessing that it’s at least 8 PM but he’s not too sure, and the bandages on his feet are beginning to itch.

At that moment the doors open and bright lights seep in, causing him to groan in pain. It’s not as bad as it was earlier, but it’s still a sharp contrast to the overwhelming darkness seconds before.

”Ah sorry about that,” Bruce says softly, with a sheepish smile. The door closes behind Natasha, who’s got a plate of steaming food in her hands. She leans against the door with a raised brow.

”Can you manage eating something soon? Otherwise..” Bruce trails off with a wince, “Feeding tube.”

Peter instantly blanches, “Gimme the plate.”

Natasha walks over with a humorous huff, mindful of Tony’s sleeping form. She helps him sit up with caution, her hands hover above his skin, and she sets up a tray. She fluffs the pillows too.

Bruce looks on with a confused expression, a remote in hand, then he eventually shrugs and sets it down. He fiddles around slightly. He takes one look at Tony’s uncomfortable position and wedges a small pillow between the man’s face and shoulder.

He doesn’t even wake — he snores louder.

Bruce blinks with a content look on his face. Natasha huffs softly.

“Eat everything on there,” She says with a pointed look. Bruce purses his lips in the background and he looks like he’s going to laugh but he clears his throat instead.

”Doctor Strange said that if we keep you steady you should be able to leave by tomorrow afternoon,” He says, “Everything will heal nicely, you’ll barely be left with any scars.”

He’s talking about the branding iron — the marks left on his chest. Peter looks at him, and he probably looks childish, but his bottom lip quivers with a teary-hope that fills him.

”We promise Pete, everything.”

Nat clears her throat, “Doc even said tattoos are an option if you truly want them.”

”Yeah no that’ll never happen,” Peter snorts, “May would probably kill me.”

”Worth a shot — we could’ve gotten matching ones,” Natasha smirks.

She points at his plate with an exasperated look and he sheepishly picks up his silverware again. He begins eating slowly as Bruce fiddles with something.

Natasha hops up on the end of the hospital bed beside his bandaged feet, swinging her legs back and forth. She starts talking to Bruce casually, more so teasing him until he huffs, mocking her back.

It’s odd watching them so casually, Bruce in baggy pants that bunch up at his ankles and Natasha wearing jeans that weren’t black.

She had changed — her socks were burgundy with cartoon style bacon and eggs on it.

Peter eats about half of his plate until his stomach clenches and he has to sit back, his hands folded in his lap. He simply listens, snorts when Natasha smacks her ankle on the rail.

He’s not sure what to do now that he’s not in immediate danger, and he can’t exactly relax in the sterile room. His shoulders feel tense with the weight of the day’s events.

Bruce takes his plate and bids them farewell, the door softly clicks shut behind him. Natasha sags a bit, her elbows support her weight and she huffs, her legs still swing freely.

Eventually she glances at him, a look of relief on her face, and her cheek is pressed against her shoulder. She pushes herself to turn towards him fully.

”You had us scared for a moment Spidey,” She says.

His eyes suddenly finds his fingers interesting, twisting them loosely with a reply. She sighs.

”Peter,” Natasha calls softly and he glances up at her, “You were gone for two days, and when you came back, you were bloody, marked and scared out of your mind. We had no idea what to do.

”Now I don’t know what happened there, what happened to you, but I can promise you it’ll eventually get better. We took them down.”

Peter furrows his eyebrows and she smiles, “Tony lead half the team to that base, made over fifteen arrests and found a ton of missing children and women.”

“Some of us stayed behind, Bruce, Strange, Bucky, Vision and I. The rest of them went off,” Nat explains further.

Peter sags a little, a wave of relief and guilt washing over him. And she continues to speak softly, tells him they’re working to finding the children who had been _sold.  
_

He swallows sharply, glad that he’s home. But he can’t hide the way his fingers tremble at the memories that resurface. Natasha notices, always does.

She gets up and grabs a huge blanket on an empty chair. She waves her hand at him to make him scoot over and he does, waiting until she’s hopped back up on the bed with a grunt.

”If I hit my ankle on this shit one more time I’ll shoot Sam in his knee,” She scowls. She adjusts the blanket until it’s covering the two of them and then she’s pulling him in.

His head rests on her chest and they settle into the pillows. She begins to run her fingers through his hair and he fiddles with the frayed edges of the blanket, sniffing and blinking away the tears in his eyes.

Natasha hums something into his hair that he doesn’t hear. He hiccups and he can feel her eyes on him, silently prompting him to open up, but he doesn’t want to be burden to her.

She sits there quietly, her grounding presence makes it easier to wade through the overwhelming memories that flash before his eyes.

He’s at the Avengers Compound with Natasha. Her heartbeat is loud in his ears. Tony’s sleeping in the uncomfortable chairs beside the bed.

”How did you guys find it?” Peter asks softly.

”Wanda and Strange helped us find it.”

”Everyone’s safe?” He asks.

”Everyone is safe,” Natasha says.

”I just... It was so scary. I didn’t think I could do it — and I thought that was going to be it,” Peter croaks.

”You made it, you’re okay.”

”I was so scared Nat,” Peter begins to cry, “It was dark and I couldn’t breathe, and they were chasing me... I just wanted to come home.”

She presses a kiss to his head as he continues.

”There was this guy and he was — wasn’t _right_, like he’d been coerced into accepting that lifestyle — and he kept telling me it would be easier and I looked prettier with the br —“ Peter’s voice cracks and he buries his face into her chest, sobs racking his body and she sighs softly.

His wailing startles Tony awake and he nearly throws his tablet in his haste. It clatters to the floor as he stands. Natasha shoots him a glare, her arms tight around the kid, and she mouths at him to leave.

He goes to protest, but she almost growls and he’s leaving while looking back every second. He’s probably going to clean up.

“I got you, I got you,” She murmurs repeatedly into his hair. She closes her eyes.

”S’Gross, I’m sorry,” Peter laughs wetly, “I got snot on your shirt.”

”You threw up on me earlier.”

”Oh God, I did?” He nearly shrieks, going to push himself up until she laughs and hugs him tighter.

”Relax webhead,” Natasha chuckles, “I got you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Literally, I kinda can’t unstick right now,” Peter giggles and his arms are wrapped around her abdomen.

True to his word — his hands stick to the fabric of her shirt — and she laughs wholeheartedly. He grumbles at FRIDAY to play his Watch Later instead of saying anything instead.

Tony comes back in not even fifteen minutes into _The Nightmare Before Christmas _and he’s looking more refreshed, his hair tamed and dressed in something comfortable.

He smiles at them, “Well would you look at that, FRI take a picture.”

Natasha flips him off and Peter giggles, his arm open to drag Tony into the cuddle session. He starts to protest lightly, claiming he doesn’t want to ruin the Spider vibes he’s receiving, but eventually he’s tugged into the bed.

It creaks under all the weight and Tony decides to be annoying, pushing his way in between them like a dog demanding attention. Peter laughs as Tony’s legs drape over the railings.

They’re not even watching the movie anymore, instead listening to Tony talk about Steve moping like a puppy in the common room for some odd reason.

Peter unintentionally clenches his jaw mid-way through Tony’s dramatic story until Natasha pokes his cheek.

”Relax webhead, we got you.” And he believes it entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments! thanks for 500 kudos!
> 
> i made a tumblr can somebody pls tell me how to use it


	13. the time on the clock is 1:13 pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Students and Administration, the time on the clock is 1:13 PM. We will officially be entering lockdown, seeing as there is an active shooter on campus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter!

  
The crowded cafeteria and endless chatter had Peter on the edge of his seat, his hands clammy as he glanced around the different tables. Laughter erupts from his side and his irritation spikes. There’s something _wrong _yet he can’t figure out what.

”Peter —“

”_What?!_” Peter snaps, his eyes still frantically glancing around the cafeteria.

A hand is placed on his shoulder and he stiffens — ready to pounce — but it’s just Ned. He’s got that concerned look on his face, where his eyebrows were raised and his lips slightly parted, nostrils flared as he tried to determine what’s wrong.

MJ was the opposite, her lips would pinch together and her eyebrows would lower considerably until they left shadows over her brown eyes. She’s doing it now, listening in from a table down, absentmindedly scribbling into her notebook.

Ned drops his hand with a small sigh, going back to his food and he automatically feels bad. He sighs heavily.

”I - I’m sorry —“ Peter huffs, his curls flop against his forehead, “There’s something wrong.”

He feels like dropping his head into his hands and screaming. Ever since he set foot on campus his spidey-sense — _Ned_ calls it that, not him — started to thrum under his skin.

Ned tilts his head to the side with a confused expression, chicken sandwich long forgotten. MJ looks up sharply.

”So it’s not just me?” She squints, and then she closes her book and leans in closer.

MJ glances at the school security across the cafeteria momentarily and then he sees it, the way her teeth assaulted her bottom lip and her sharper-than-usual reactions, just like him.

She’s worried. And that makes his panic _skyrocket._

”I was talking with Nurse Lisa yesterday, apparently Midtown has been getting huge threats,” She whispers.

”Threats?!” Peter says with a shocked expression.

”School shooting threats, bomb threats.”

Ned’s looking more alarmed by the second as the severity of the situation starts to settle in. Then he’s arching his brow, and he’s whisper yelling at them.

He’s wondering why the administration would keep it a secret — the potential harm headed their way — but it’s all white noise.

Peter pinches the bridge of his noise, his spider-sense seems to agree with what MJ and Ned are saying, and his heart begins to hammer against his ribcage.

He inhales and exhales in a practiced manner. He extends his senses as far as they can go, past the conversations about Chemistry teachers and weekend activities, his focus on Principal Morita.

The man is on the phone, the cord consistently scrapes against the desk he sits at. He’s sighing heavily.

”_I have over 800 people — staff and students — how can I know... I’m well aware of that sir —“_

Peter opens his eyes with a grunt, another wave of danger washes over him, and MJ looks particularly disgruntled.

”Morita is definitely talking to the Chief of Police,” He says to them. She instantly scowls.

”What are they going to do? Come in here and shoot some black kids because they weren’t hidden in a classroom?” MJ angrily murmurs, “That’s bullshit.”

”Peter, you can do something about it.”

At Ned’s suggestion, surprisingly, him and MJ automatically shake their heads.

She turns to him in surprise, eyebrows raised. He does the same to her, but before they can say a word, the bell rings sharply. Lunch is over.

Ned blanches slightly, his worry indicated in his frown. He hesitates at the end of the table for a second before he leans in.

”Be safe, _please._” Then he walks out the cafeteria.

Peter and MJ gather their stuff with grim looks, and his stomach is bubbling with anticipation. He has a terrible feeling about the rest of today.

They walk together through the hallways, and it seems as if the energy is dim. Everyone seems dreadful for their next class but maybe nothing is wrong.

Betty Brant comes by, her hands folding in front of her, and she’s grimacing a little. She attempts to stand straight but she gives up with a huff.

”You guys hear?” Betty asks with a nervous expression.

MJ shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, her face pinched and Betty looks even more tense. She glances around before she leans in.

”Morita has been in contact with the police, they think there’s an active shooter on campus,” She speaks quickly.

”So why haven’t we been evacuated?” MJ stands in the middle of the hallway, stopping the natural flow of bodies. They scowl and she glares right back.

It’s Betty’s turn to snarl, “The administration doesn’t want anyone to panic. It’s stupid.”

The three of them continue walking to their next period upstairs. It’s quiet between them, MJ’s heart pounding steadily, and she can’t even crack a joke when Flash stumbles in class.

Even as their History teacher, Mrs. Sanders, starts a WWI simulation in class, desks stacked atop each other to represent the trench systems and surgical masks handed out to ‘act’ like gas masks, the three of them couldn’t get too much into it.

Betty and him were on one team, declared _helmets_, and MJ was on another, declared _masks_. Their History teacher clapped with excitement.

This WWI simulation had been in the works for the past week and a half, and for once, everyone in the class was excited for it. Like, they could throw paper balls at one another, and Peter’s always wanted to hit Jason in his face.

Even with students missing the teams were even, chattering students crumpling papers into balls and some were unscrewing some bolts on the desks.

Students had to place backpacks and phones behind the teacher’s desk to prevent anyone tripping over them during the simulation, and then just as it was about to begin, the speakers crackled to life.

Peter felt his heart fall through the floor and he whips around to look at MJ’s pale face. She presses her lips into a thin line.

“Students and Administration, the time on the clock is 1:13 PM. We will officially be entering lockdown, seeing as there is an active shooter on campus.”

At Principal Morita’s words, honestly he expected full blown panic and crying to ensue, but pure, unadulterated silence followed. All the students glanced at Sanders, and he could hear how fast everyone’s hearts were beating.

She quietly goes over to lock their door and switch off the lights, and she places a black piece of paper over the window in the door. She motions everyone to hide behind the desks stacked up on one side where the windows were visible.

Peter presses himself against the wall, knees to his chest, and MJ squeezes beside him. She takes his hand without hesitation.

Neither of them have their phones. She’s asking a silent question, whether Tony would call, and he can’t say that he won’t call.

No doubt this is being broadcasted. Betty sits beside them and she’s already breathing in a practiced manner, her nostrils slightly flared. Even through the erratic heartbeats he hears the distant police sirens coming closer and closer towards their school.

Everyone is quiet, their breaths caught in their throats and the anticipation continues to build steadily with each minute thats passes. The teacher hands him and another student baseball bats.

Reality of the current predicament they’re all in begins to settle and a few students wipe their tears as quietly as they can. There’s a loud pop from somewhere on campus, not too far from their classroom, and everyone jumps slightly.

Peter swallows the lump in his throat, his mask moving as he does so. His hands are clammy and he feels like he’s going to swoon under the weight of the collective silence.

They can all hear the police cars in the parking lots and the sounds of squeaking shoes can be heard in the vacant hallways. When he thinks he can’t take it anymore, the speakers crackle to life.

”Thank you for your professionalism during this time. We are officially off lockdown procedure — everyone may return to their class.”

Waves of relief wash over him and everyone seems go heave a collective sigh. Immediately they begin to chat to one another, shaky whispers of their worries, how they would leave through the windows if need be, and it’s all a reminder of how scary this all was.

Fifth period ends with the shrill bell only a few moments later, and it’s enough for people to scramble towards their own belongings. He lingers for a few moments to calm his racing heart, a incessant ringing in his ears.

As the hallways’ chatter reaches a new level he steels himself, a sharp inhale later he’s moved from his spot. He grabs his backpack and digs through it until his fingers brush against his cold phone.

When the lock screen lights up, there’s multiple unread messages, but surprisingly only one missed call from Aunt May. Tony, Happy, May, hell even Rhodey messaged him, asking if he was okay. If he was safe.

His fingers tremble as they hover over his screen until he just pockets his phone. The severity of the situation, lack of seriousness coming from administration, and the amount of people that could have lost their lives today if there was a shooter on campus. Sure, police showed up, but this probably could have been prevented way earlier.

MJ grasps his hand gently and he trails behind her like a puppy. He’s grinding his teeth together and tears collect in the corners of his eyes, but he digs his heels into the ground when he sees where they’re headed.

”W-We still have,” Peter swallows the lump in his throat, “Class and then Decathlon —“

”No way, _no._” She nearly snarls, “We’re not doing that. I’ll send out a text about Decathlon, but we can’t stay here.”

Peter simply nods and follows her out the school’s front doors, and the amount of cars out front causes his panic to skyrocket. If there _was _an active shooter, nobody could drive off with the amount of cars parked in the streets. MJ’s hands are clammy as she drags him along.

At that moment he hears his name being called — MJ’s too — and he turns. It’s Happy, May, and Tony, and they’re attempting to call the two of them over. They’re not allowed past the barricades the police have set up and he can see how frantic they’ve become in the minutes that passed since they texted him and now.

He tugs MJ towards the car and now she follows him without question. They squeeze past the barricades and police that stand there like logs, and almost instantly they’re pulled into hugs. May hugs MJ tightly as Tony hugs Peter, Happy placing gentle hands on their backs.

Peter’s exhale is shaky and he squeezes his eyes shut into Tony’s shoulder. May eventually joins the hug, pressing a tender kiss to his curly hair.

”Let’s go home,” Happy says.

_Home. _Yeah, that sounds wonderful. Let’s go home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a tumblr and it’s called dearparkr if you want to follow it
> 
> very unedited and short!
> 
> IF YOU’RE BORED, READ MY OTHER STORIES :D
> 
> i totally didn’t write about a personal experience i had back in january 2020 through peter parker nope nuh uh
> 
> LEAVE COMMENTS AND KUDOS!


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